


Wayward Son

by ForeverAfandom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, ngl this is the plot of an animatic I’m working on.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverAfandom/pseuds/ForeverAfandom
Summary: Endings are hard . . . and some are trash. SO, here is how I personally believe Supernatural should've ended.-----•-----Dean was angry. He was furious. He was broken. A testimony to the damned and those destined to never have a happy ending. For decades he had pushed away the agony that the losses left. He'd pushed away that bitter reminder of everyone's mortality. He pushed away the knowledge that he was a walking illness. A virus. A poison. A disease. He had bound and silenced the voices screaming that he was the reason so many people died.Dean Winchester had never been worthy of being saved.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Michael & Adam Milligan, jack Kline/ nougat
Comments: 15
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Episodes 18, 19, and 20 are being rewritten. 
> 
> I want to clarify that I am in no way attempting to discredit all of the hard work the writers, actors, producers, directors, and etc put into creating such a beautiful and immortal story. I just, personally, believe that there were a lot of other options for the ending. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

SPOILERS FOR SEASONS 1-15 OF SUPERNATURAL

—————•—————

_Dean Winchester had never been worthy of being saved._

He could feel the glue holding him together peel away. Everything he'd taught himself about maintaining a facade melted before him. Tears streamed relentlessly down his cheeks, dripping off of his chin and soaking into the cloth of his shirt.

He was angry. He was furious. He was broken. A testimony to the damned and those destined to never have a happy ending. For decades he had pushed away the agony that the losses left. He'd pushed away that bitter reminder of everyone's mortality. He pushed away the knowledge that he was a walking illness. A virus. A disease. He had bound and silenced the voices screaming that he was the reason so many people died.

But, this was the one. This was the one that was too much. This was the loss that he could feel inside his very chest. Threatening to shatter his ribs and suffocate him from the inside. This was a loss he couldn't deal with. And it was because he could trace the steps. Every single place where he had gone wrong. Every single moment that led to where he was now -- sitting silently on a bed Castiel owned and had never once used. Clutching one of Castiel's many coats because it was all he had to hold onto.

He could still smell him. A scent he'd never been able to place. Perhaps it was a divine scent. Perhaps it was something specific to angels. But, even now, it lingered thick in the air around him. It was strong enough that, when he closed his eyes, Dean could almost feel the bed dip under the weight of another. He could almost feel the sheer warmth the angel had always seemed to radiate. But, when he opened his eyes, he was alone in a room full of scattered ties and discarded shoes.

And his mind wandered back to the hours previous. It should have been him to go. What did he have to offer this broken -- and, apparently, empty -- world? An occasional sarcastic one-liner? Drunken pessimism? Toxic masculinity that was _truly_ coming to the surface in these clearly god-forsaken hours of the morning? _Cas_ was the one who loved. _Cas_ was the one who never gave up. _Cas_ was the one who could rouse them from defeat and show them another way. _Cas was the one who should have survived._

_Dean Winchester had never been worthy of being saved._

And, even now, Castiel's words rang in his ears. " _I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive and you're angry and you're broken_." Dean closed his eyes and clutched the coat closer, letting the scent wash over him. " _And you think hate and anger, that's -- that's what drives you. That's who you are. It's not_."

And Dean wanted to scream that that _was_ who he was. He was angry and broken, shattered beyond repair. He wanted to tear down the walls encasing the room and he wanted to watch the life seep from anybody who tried to stop him.

Dean had lost people before. Dean had lost his mother, his father, Pamela, Jo, and Ellen. He'd lost his grandfather and Rufus and Bobby. He'd lost Charlie and Kevin. Eileen and Crowley. He'd lost Rowena and Jack and he'd lost Sam more times than he could count. And now the entire world was gone. Jody, Claire, Donna, Donatello, Garth, even Becky . . . everyone.

And he despised himself. Because, for them, for all of them, he would've had the strength to stand and fight. To find a way to bring them home.

But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to stand, much less fight. Not now. He couldn't get Cas's face out of his head. He couldn't make the words stop playing. For the first time in his life, he couldn't suppress his emotions.

" _I love you_." So simple. So honest. And apparently deadly. Dean couldn't forget the way Cas had smiled the slightest of smiles. The way the furrow between his eyes lessened and his shoulders dropped. The way every ounce of tension in his body had dispersed. The way he had _truly_ seemed happy.

Another wave of sobs bubbled from Dean's throat. Had he loved Cas back? Cas was family. Cas was warm and familiar. Yes, of course, Dean loved Cas. But had he loved him in that way? Had he loved him in a way so finite and pure that it was the one thing in life that made him truly happy? Had he loved him in a way that made eternal suffering and regrets worth it? Had Dean loved Cas?

And in came his hardwiring. In came John Winchester's voice speaking words Dean had never heard but could so perfectly imagine. " _Don't be unnatural, son. Think about Lisa. How much you loved her. No son of mine is in love with a man, I can promise you that._ "

_Dean Winchester had never been worthy of being saved._

Dean had loved Lisa, he had. And were his feelings about Cas altogether different from his feelings about Lisa? With Lisa he had imagined dinner dates, fishing in the grey morning, taking long drives to nowhere simply to spend time together. He had imagined quiet dances at midnight with no music playing. He had imagined a happy life. And he wasn't altogether surprised when he could imagine every one of those dreams with Castiel instead of Lisa. He could imagine throwing the ball with Jack out front and teaching him the good kind of music. He could imagine that apple pie life Sam had always talked about. He wanted that life. He wanted that life with _Cas_. Where he and his angel went on double dates with Sam and Eileen and --

_Sam_.

Dean wasn't the only one who had lost someone today. It was the idea of Sam all alone, just as broken as him, that gave him the strength to wipe the tears from his face and to push himself off of the covers. 

The youngest Winchester was sitting with an open book in the bunker library. However, his eyes were glazed and puffy. Dean had a feeling he wasn't the only one who had been crying.

"Hey, Sammy."

Sam sniffed and looked up from the book. "Dean," he breathed. His words were forced. Broken. "Hey."

Dean took a seat across from his younger brother without a word. They had made it through so much. So many hopeless fights. So many wars that were lost before they started. And, every single time, they had pulled through. Dean bowed his head. What did they have now? Two humans and a powerless Nephilim with spunk and excessive optimism?

And yet . . . Dean had leaned on Sam when he'd needed someone to hold him up. And Sam had supported him time and time again. But now, even though they were both breaking, Sam needed someone to hold him up. Sam needed the support of his older brother. Sam needed hope.

"We're going to get them back," Dean finally breathed. He found it harder than usual to hold down the uncertainty in his voice.

" _How_ , Dean?"

"I don't know yet, but -- Sam we've fought too hard for too long to give up now. To lose . . . _everything_ now."

Sam was quiet for a long time. His eyes were back on the open book, but he still didn't seem to be reading it. "I was going to propose to her, you know?" He choked. Dean hadn't even realized he was crying. "To Eileen. Once we killed Chuck and -- and once we were free. I was finally going to get that life." He looked up at Dean. "I was ready for that life." He scrubbed the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. And as he spoke, his voice sounded so small. So hopeless. It brought Dean back to years ago when they were children wondering why Dad was so late coming home. "It hurts, Dean."

Dean nodded, trying to hold himself together. _Be strong for Sammy._ He told himself. _He needs you._ "I know," he finally muttered, watching Sam with sad eyes. "I get it, man. I --"

And Sam was standing. His chair skidded backwards and his hands thudded against the wood of the table. " _No_! You don't get it, Dean! Look, I appreciate you trying to have a nice 'big brother talk', but don't say you get it! Cause you don't! You haven't lost anybody like this before. Not like Eileen."

Dean froze as Sam turned to leave. Had he loved and lost anyone in the same way? He'd loved Lisa, but he hadn't lost her like that. The only other person he could count . . .

He could feel his defenses rising. Words he wanted to say but knew he shouldn't. Words that would be said eventually, when the time was right. But not now. Not while Sam just needed comfort.

And yet, they came. Spilling from his lips in a way that wasn't entirety dissimilar to how alcohol made him speak. Slurred. Slow. Not rushed, but managing to have an urgent edge.

Dean Winchester was drunk with something new, this time.

"He loved me." He bowed his head as the words caught in his throat. Sam paused and turned around.

"What?"

"He loved me," Dean repeated, looking up to meet Sam's eyes. Tears were threatening to fall now. He could feel the burn in his throat and the heat rise to his face. The muscles in his cheeks twitched painfully and he gave into a sob bubbling from his throat. "He loved me and it got him _killed_ , Sammy."

Sam didn't move to sit back down, but his shoulders hunched and his eyes fell closed. He was exhausted. They all were. "I know, Dean."

" _No_. No, he loved me. Like -- like how you love Eileen." And out spilled his defense. "So, don't tell me that I don't get it, Sam. Don't tell me that I never have. Because, whether or not it's the same, it hurts like hell. Don't be sad or tired. Be angry. Be angry, 'cause then we might actually have a chance."

Sam, after a prolonged silence, sat back down across from Dean. "So you loved him too?"

Dean wiped the tears away, only for them to be replaced with more. "What? I -- _no_. I don't know." He hated crying like this. The kind of crying that makes you foggy and makes your head throb. The kind of crying that allows you no leeway over the stupid faces you make. "I mean . . . he was Cas." Dean took a shuddering breath. "Maybe." He looked to the ceiling, doing everything to avoid Sam's eyes. " _Yes_."

And Dean got it. The joy in saying it. Just . . . _saying_ it. It was quickly replaced with the fear that he would never get to tell Cas himself. A moment of joy over-shown much too quickly by the raw emotions of grief. 

Sam allowed the silence to grow around them. He truly didn't know what to say and, if Dean wanted to talk, he would. He had known for years. Maybe longer than either of them. The prolonged stares. The way Dean grew less and less interested in strippers and sex the longer he knew Cas. There was something unspoken between the two of them and Sam just assumed they both knew it was there. Maybe he'd been wrong.

They always had been stubborn.

"He died thinking I didn't love him back," Dean finally choked out. "He died thinking I didn't care." Dean gave a strangled gasp. "Did anyone _ever_ tell him that he was loved?!"

Sam felt Dean's words like a punch to the gut. It was all just a bit too much. He wanted to close his eyes and just go to sleep. Drown out the world with fantasies he'd been free to have just yesterday. Dreams where Eileen and he were allowed to live free. Dreams where Jack was allowed to just be a kid for once. Dreams where Dean smiled when he woke up and where he grabbed juice instead of beer in the mornings. Dreams where Cas stayed in the bunker because he was family.

Now it was Sam's turn to comfort Dean. "Dean, look at me." Dean looked up, his face red and his eyes puffy. His hair was a mess from the sheer number of times he'd run his hands through it. In all the years that Sam had hunted with Dean, he'd never seen him look so incredibly broken. So hopeless. "You hold onto that, you hear me? Hold onto it and tell him when we get him back. Make sure he knows."

Dean couldn't find a space in between his sobs to speak, so he just nodded. Sam sighed. "Just like you told me, Dean. We're going to get them back. We're going to get them _all_ back."

Dean nodded again, finally managing to slow his breathing enough to speak. "Yeah . . . I — I'm gunna wash off."

"Yeah, okay. I'll make dinner."

Dean flashed Sam a weak smile. He'd come in here to be strong for his little brother. He'd come in here to comfort him. And look where they were now. Sam had been the one to comfort Dean — who had dissolved into tears (again) — and now he was going to make dinner. What kind of older brother was Dean? What kind of man was Dean? What kind of hunter was he?

He was disgraceful. Pitiful. Weak.

_Dean Winchester had never been worthy of being saved._


	2. Chapter Two

**TW: Panic Attack and unintentional self harm**

“Dean?”

Dean straightened up and turned to face the door. He’d been grabbing clothes for his shower and hadn’t heard Jack come in. 

“Hey, kid,” Even to himself, Dean’s voice felt thick and heavy with exhaustion. “You alright?”

Jack shrugged. It was as if he had visible cogs turning behind his eyes. Dean watched as Jack’s cheeks flushed and his eyes began glazing over with tears. It struck him just how young the kid really was. And, as the tears spilled silently over Jack’s cheeks, Dean wondered what he would do if this was Ben.

But this wasn’t Ben. This was Jack. 

Dean opened his arms. “Come’re, kid,” He whispered. 

Jack stumbled forward and practically fell into Dean’s open arms. “They were so scared. All of them. They knew what was happening to them, Dean, and we couldn’t stop it,” Jack breathed out, his voice unsteady. There was a moment of silence before he continued. “Cas would know what to do.”

And Dean laughed. He laughed a cold, sharp, bitter laugh. It hurt to know just how right Jack was. “Yeah, he would.” 

Cas should be the one here, comforting Jack. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want to, because he did. He wanted to be there for the kid. Hell, he was still furious at himself for saying that Jack wasn’t family. Jack was as much a Winchester as Sam was. As much as Cas was. 

“ _Family don’t end in blood, boy,”_ Bobby had once said. Dean couldn’t believe he’d forgotten that. Couldn’t believe he’d even considered that Jack wasn’t family. Yeah, the kid screwed up. But, so had Dean. Dean had been a _demon,_ amongst other things. Sam had messed up too. He’d literally started the _apocalypse_. Cas had tried to be a cruel capricious god and he was still, and always would be, family. Jack was no different. Jack was family. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack muttered, backing away from Dean. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. If Dean’s shoulder wasn’t wet and he hadn’t seen the tears beforehand, he wouldn’t have known he was even crying. His cheeks were a bit flushed, but, other than that, he looked perfectly normal. There was no indication to the trauma they’d all endured. “I didn’t mean to bother you, I just wanted to talk.” 

“Then talk, kid.” Dean sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. “We’re in no rush today. Sam’s making dinner. We eat, we drink, we sleep, and then we come up with a plan tomorrow.” 

Jack frowned and Dean couldn’t blame him. Hardly a week ago he’d degraded the kid to nothing but an outsider. He couldn’t blame Jack for being wary of sudden kindness from the man. Dean, after all, was known to be prone to angry outburst at the drop of a hat. 

Jack, after a moment’s hesitation, sat down next to Dean. 

“Cas brought me back from the Empty,” he started. “It’s kinda ironic.” 

Dean nodded. “Pretty vicious cycle.” He took a deep breath. He was done crying for the day, hopefully, but the pain was still layered thick and heavy. “We’ll get him back, kid. I promise.”

“I’m scared. It just —” Jack swallowed. “It _hurts_ , Dean. Before I got my soul back, I didn’t feel anything like this. I mean, I’d forgotten what it all felt like. Joy. Sadness. Anxiety. All of it. And now . . . I almost wish I didn’t have my soul. Just so I didn’t have to feel _this_.”

Dean nodded. He hated to admit it, but he got it. That broken, dull ache that seemed to settle right in the center of your gut. It sucked. And it went away until you thought about it again. The process went on and on. “I hear ya,” he finally breathed. “I do, kid. I hear ya. But — hey, look at me,” Dean grabbed Jack’s shoulder’s and squeezed. “Don’t think about how much you miss him. Think about all of the good times. The car rides, the cases, the movies, all the good talks.” _Squeeze._ “Think about the times that give you warmth from your fingers to your toes. That’s what’s going to fuel your fire. Fear’s a good motivator for a short period of time, but hope is the most powerful motivation you can have.” 

Jack looked to the floor. “You’ve thought about this a lot.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah, I have.” 

“Is love another motivator?” 

Dean didn’t need to brew up an answer to this one. “You bet your ass it is! Love’s what got you outta the Empty.” _Love’s what got Cas thrown in._ “Love has saved Sam and I more times than I can count.” _Love has put us in danger on the daily._ “Love is what’s going to save the world . . . not to sound like a hippie or anything,” Dean added as an afterthought. 

“Cas told me once that, if I ever found a person who I would die for, then that was who I knew I could live for.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. Had Cas been thinking of Dean? 

“Did he ever find someone like that?” Jack continued, looking intently at Dean. 

_He knows._ Dean looked away. _Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Stop_ crying, _goddamnit._ Dean squeezed his stinging eyes shut. “I hope so.”

Jack pressed on. “Did you?” 

That made Dean pause. 

_“I’d rather have you. Cursed or not.”_

_“I need you.”_

_“I love you.”_

Dean finally looked over to Jack. He looked curious. Not mischievous, as if he knew what he was asking and was going to get his answer one way or another. He looked so . . . innocent. 

“You know, kid, I think I did.”

—————•—————

Dean grimaced as he wiped away the fog clouding the mirror. He looked a mess, even after washing. He had bags under his eyes and they seemed to be perpetually red. He looked sick. 

Dean sighed and turned away. That reflection wasn’t making him feel any better. 

He pulled on his clothes and left the bathroom, leaving his towel crumpled on the floor. Sam was stood at the counter. He was finishing up the hamburgers he’d made. 

“Smells good,” Dean noted as he walked in. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down. “Where’s Jack?” 

Sam brought Dean a plate. “Doing research.”

“God, he’s like a mini you,” Dean scoffed, taking a swig of his beer. 

“Yeah,” Sam laughed. “I’ll go get him. We’ll have a family dinner.”

“Been a long time since we had one of those.” 

Sam nodded and left to get Jack without another word. 

Dean had managed to nearly drain his beer by the time Sam and Jack returned. Jack gave Dean a weak smile and Dean did his best to return it. 

“Hey,” Dean said in the way of a greeting. 

Jack sat down next to Dean. He looked so tired. So hopeless. It broke Dean to see him like that. He’d once been so full of light and happiness. He’s once been so _happy_. 

“You wanna beer?” Dean offered Jack a bottle. The kid gave another half-assed smile and took it with a nearly inaudible thanks. 

Sam set the small plate of burgers in the middle of the table. “Dig in,” he said. His voice was quiet, his eyes downcast. 

Jack simply stared at the food. Dean did the same. He wasn’t hungry. He knew he should eat, but the thought of it made him nauseous. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Dean?” 

“Look,” Dean opened his eyes. “I’m, uh, I’m really not hungry. Sam, you can have mine.”

“Your’s is real meat, Dean,” Sam said gently. His voice was calmer than it had been in a long time. He sounded like a father telling his child a bedtime story. 

“Right . . . then — then the kid can have it. I’m just gunna go to bed.”

Dean grabbed another beer from the table. And then another. He carried them out with him, but he didn’t go to his room. Instead, he made his way to the library. 

He knew he should be doing research on how to get the entire world back. That’s what they’d be doing tomorrow, at least. But, he couldn’t bring himself to reach for the books. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. 

His fight was gone. 

His will was gone. 

Dean closed his eyes again. He could almost hear Cas talking to him. Urging him to keep moving forward, to keep looking. 

But he couldn’t. 

_Focus on what you can do._ Dean told himself, setting the beer bottles on a nearby shelf. _I can walk_ . So he walked. He moved back and forth between the shelves, just trying to focus on each step. _I can breathe._ He took a deep breath in and let it out through his mouth. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

Inhale. 

Exhale. 

And the tears fell once more. Dean braced himself against one of the shelves and heaved. It was all too much. They’d had to save the world before, sure, but they’d always had help. They always had Bobby or Jody or Charlie or Donna or Kevin or Donny or — 

Or Cas. 

Dean sat down, his knees to his chest. Sam wouldn’t find him here. He was free to break down. And he did. His hands found their way to his hair, balling into fists only to release and clench again at different angles. His feet slid against the smooth stone floor, pushing him back until he hit a wall. 

The muscles in his legs twitched against his control. Tensing in various places before relaxing and starting again somewhere else. 

He needed a grip on reality. He didn’t have one.

How was this possible?! They were it. In the whole entire world, they were it. 

He felt lightheaded. Then he felt sick. He doubled over, wanting nothing more than to relieve the pressure in his gut. Nothing came up other than a few more sobs. His heart was thumping quicker and quicker against his ribs and he couldn’t stop the tears. His nails dug into the palms of his hand. He could feel them pushing past his flesh, but he didn’t feel the sting he should have. 

_Why didn’t it hurt?_ What was happening to him. 

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he choked. He lifted his head to the sky. He couldn’t breathe but he had to talk — to _pray._ “I don’t know what to do. You gave your life for the wrong person, Cas. I can’t save the world. _We_ can’t. Not without you or Bobby or anything that could give us — give us the upper hand.” Dean tried again to breathe in and out. Trying to count his breathing. 

In 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. 

Hold 1, 2, 3. 

Out 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. 

It didn’t help. He let out another sob and curled into himself. He felt so . . . wrong. Something felt so horribly wrong. Like he was lagging. Was this Chuck? Was Chuck messing with time? Or was Dean finally going crazy? Was his mind lagging behind his body? Or was it the other way around? 

He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to blot out the light and focus. Maybe if he didn’t see the world he wouldn’t feel so laggy. 

He still felt laggy. 

He let out something between a sob and a scream pass clenched teeth. He still struggled to breathe. Still couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He had the urge to yawn. 

“Dean?” Jack was standing at the end of the row, looking more concerned than Dean had seen him look since before he’d lost his soul. “I heard noi — oh my god, you’re bleeding.” Jack rushed forward and prodded at Dean’s face. Why Dean’s face? 

Was he crying tears of blood? . . . Didn’t that happen in the Bible at some point? 

_Oh. I rubbed my eyes. My hands must be bleeding._

Dean tried to muffle another sob. It didn’t work and he only managed to further his inability to breathe. 

“Dean?” Jack was frantic. He’d just lost Cas, he was terrified he was losing Dean too. “What do I do?!” 

Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. As his head pressed against the stone, he realized how violently he was shaking. “Sam.” It was all he could say. The few breaths he could get in between his sobs weren’t enough. He was freezing, but he could feel the sweat beading across his forehead. 

Jack stood and raced out of the library, calling for Sam. He returned a moment later, the giant of a man in tow. 

“Dean?” Sam kneeled down in front of Dean. As he looked Dean over, his panic seemed to subside a bit. He let out a breath. “Dean, you’re having a panic attack.” 

Dean would’ve liked to have said, ‘ _And?!_ How do I fix it?!’ But all that game out was another gurgled sob. 

“Dean, look, you’re okay. Alright. Hey, look at me.” Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulders. “What are five things you can see?” 

Dean’s mind was moving either too fast or too slow to process much of what Sam was saying. But it was enough. “Book.” It came out as some kind of airy whisper in between his sobs, but it came out nonetheless. “You. Jack. Shelf.” Dean struggled for a moment to find a fifth before his eyes landed on a small chest in the corner. “Box.” 

“Good, okay, what are four things you can touch?”

Dean reached a hand up to rest on Sam’s arm. “You.” Sam nodded encouragingly. “Me. Floor. Phone.” Dean took a breath and for the first time in the last few minutes he felt in line with time or reality or whatever had been out of whack before. 

“Great! What are three things you can hear?” 

Dean swallowed. He heard the ever persistent whir of the bunker. “Bunker.” He heard himself. “Me.” He could hear his heartbeat. “Heart.” 

Dean swallowed. His tears were slowing now and he felt as though he could finally breathe. 

“Awesome, okay, uh, what are two things that you can smell?” 

This one was easy. “Blood and beer,” Dean whispered. He wiped his palms on his jeans where they left vague bloody smears. How had he managed to make himself bleed so much? The sting he now felt, however, was welcomed. 

“And one thing you taste?” 

“Beer.” 

Sam patted Dean’s shoulder. “Great. Just — just breathe, man. You’re alright.” 

Dean leaned his head back and focused on his breathing. As his heartbeat slowed, his tears stopped, and his breathing normalized he realized just how truly tired he was. He sniffled. “Thanks.”

“You good?” Sam leaned back on his heels and Jack stepped forward. He handed Dean a teddy bear. 

“It helps me sometimes,” Jack muttered, rather awkwardly. 

Dean smiled and took the stuffed bear. “Thanks, kid.” 

Sam frowned. “You wanna talk about that or . . .”

Dean shook his head. 

His head hurt, he was tired, he was thirsty, and he had a bad taste in his mouth. He felt clammy too, like he had a cold. “I’m just gunna go to bed, I think.” He looked between Sam and Jack. That was the second time he’d broken down in front of Sam today. “Thanks again. Both of you.” 

Dean headed to his room and pulled back the covers of his bed, not even bothering to change. He fell asleep quickly that night, Jack’s teddy bear tucked under his arm and lights still on. 


	3. Chapter Three

He knew it was too early when he woke up. Dean rolled over and checked the clock. 3:17. He groaned and sat up. He was exhausted, and yet he knew he wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. 

Dean threw the covers back and climbed out of the bed. As an afterthought, he grabbed Jack’s stuffed bear and held it close to his chest. 

He made his way back into the library to finish what he’d wanted to do the night before. The two bottles of beer were still sitting on one of the shelves, so he grabbed them and took them with him to the table. 

A panic attack. Dean couldn’t think about a time that had happened before, so he had no reference point to base it off of. Sam said it had been a panic attack. But did Sam know? 

Surely Dean had just been being over dramatic. What would’ve even caused a panic attack? Sadness? Confusion? Guilt? Stress? None of those seemed likely. Then again, he had nothing to base it off of. But Sam had said so. And maybe Sam knew. 

_ Sam knows everything.  _ Dean thought. He knew what to say. He knew how to say it. Sam was a good man. 

Jack’s teddy bear sat in the center of the table while Dean scanned the books for anything he could use. He knew Sam, Jack, and he would look for ways to save humanity in the coming hours of the morning, but he wanted another answer. He wanted a way to save Cas. 

Book after book piled into his arms. Books about angels. Books about demons. Books about gods and demigods. Books on Greek myths and Hades. Anything he could find that may provide an answer would be enough. Just something to point him in the right direction. 

The stack landed heavily next to the teddy bear. Dean grabbed the first bottle of beer and opened it on the edge of the table, taking a sip before beginning to read. 

He got through the first book on angels quickly. It didn’t mention anything about what happens after they die, much less how to break them out. The next book, a book on Orpheus and Eurydice, bore no more information. Simply a tragic tale that made Dean sadder than he was. And then the books on Demons. Still nothing. It was nearing 6 when Sam walked in. 

“Dean?” 

Dean didn’t look up from the book about Hades he was reading. “Morning.”

“What . . . Dean, what’re you doing?”

“‘M reading.” Dean finally looked up at Sam. He looked just as tired as Dean felt. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Sam asked, sitting in the chair opposite. 

“Yeah. Got about three hours.” Dean turned back to the book. ‘ _ Hades, while known to be merciless on his own, has a weakness for his wife, Persephone. Her suggestions are often taken as law and —‘ _

“You should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“ _ Dean, _ ” Sam’s voice was sharp enough that Dean looked up. “It’s going to be a long day. Eating will get you a good start. Help you focus.”

Dean sighed. “Alright. Alright,  _ fine.  _ But then we’re back to the books.” 

“Thank you.”

“I’ll get Jack.” Dean grabbed the teddy bear off of the table, grateful that Sam hadn’t mentioned it. 

The kid was still asleep when Dean walked in. He looked so peaceful and Dean was loath to wake him. He sat down at the foot of Jack’s bed and shook him as gently as possible. 

“Jack? Gotta wake up.” Dean shook him again. Cas would be better at this. “We’ve got a lotta work to do.”

Jack, at last, stirred and looked to Dean with bleary eyes. He groaned softly and sat up. 

“Morning, kiddo,” Dean smiled. He handed Jack the bear. “Thanks for giving this to me last night. I don’t know if it helped or not, but, I never had one, so it was making up for lost time, I guess.”

Jack stared silently and Dean’s stomach dropped. He was like a clone of Cas. The way his head tilted just a hair to the side, the way his lips frowned ever so slightly while he thought, everything about him screamed ‘Castiel’s son’. 

“I get the feeling,” Jack started, his voice rather croaky from the lack of use. “That you’re a better father to me than your dad was to you.”

Dean’s heart broke. He felt as though it was literally cracking and falling away as he stumbled for words. 

“Kid . . .” He closed his eyes. It was too early for this. He needed a drink. “I don’t know if that’s true.” He took a deep breath. “ I haven’t been good to you. Not  _ nearly  _ as good as I should’ve been. I don’t know why. I don’t have a good reason. I think — I think maybe you scared me a little. And — and I’ve treated you real bad. But you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a son, Jack, and I know I haven’t shown you that enough.

“When this is all over, I’m gonna be better. No. No, starting  _ now _ , I’m gonna be better. I’ve had more chances than any man should have. Okay? You’re family, Jack, and I love you. Sam loves you too. And Cas —” Dean bit his cheek. “Cas loved you so  _ so  _ much. I’m sorry.” 

Jack watched Dean with that same all-too-familiar look for a moment longer. “I forgave you a long time ago, Dean.” He smiled a toothy grin. Dean couldn’t help but smile back. “I love you, too. I have got . . .  _ the _ coolest dads ever.”

Dean chuckled and pulled Jack into a hug. “You’re too good, kid.” 

When Jack pulled back, there was almost a lesser tension in Dean’s chest. He felt the smallest bit lighter. 

_ “It’s in just being. In just saying it.” _

Cas had been right. The angel’s love, of course, had been different then how Dean felt about Jack. Jack was like a son. And Dean did love him as such. Acknowledging that, just  _ admitting it  _ gave him just enough happiness to push himself off the bed and pat Jack on the back. 

“Alright, get dressed. Or don’t, it doesn’t really matter. Sam’s cooking breakfast and then we’ve got a lot of reading today.”

Jack nodded. He didn’t bother getting dressed, he simply slid his feet into a pair of slippers and followed Dean out of the door. 

Sam already had the eggs, sausage, and waffles on the table. He glanced up when Dean walked in, Jack trailing behind. 

“Morning, Jack.”

“Good Morning.” Jack sat opposite Sam without saying anything else. Dean took a seat beside the kid. 

Sam leaned forward, as if whispering so that no one else could hear. Of course, not only were they the only ones in the bunker, but they were the only ones in the world. “So, we’ve got a lot to do today. Obviously we’ll need something —”

Dean held up a hand. He pointed to his coffee. “Just, Sammy, a minute, please. I just want a minute.” 

He felt selfish for saying it. Could they spare a minute? Why were they sitting down, having breakfast while they should be finding a way to save the world? He put his sausage down, appetite gone. 

How could Cas think Dean was selfless? He clearly was more concerned with himself. Dean bit his cheek, trying to staunch the increasing turmoil inside his head. 

_ Selfish.  _

_ Murderer.  _

_ Unworthy.  _

_ Loveless.  _

_ Broken.  _

_ Villain.  _

_ You should’ve stayed in Hell. _

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In, 1 2 3 4 5 6. Hold. Out. 

He did this for a minute or two, focusing intently on counting. To his surprise, it seemed to help. He opened his eyes to Sam talking about what he wanted to do with Eileen once the world was set right. 

“I’m thinking about going back to Law School. I don’t think it’s too late,” Sam continued. 

Jack was listening intently. He hung onto Sam’s words like a lifeline. 

_ Because they’re words of hope.  _ Dean realized. Sam was thinking about a future where they succeeded. 

Could Dean envision a future where they won? 

He took a minute to mull over the thought. What would he do if they beat Chuck? He could think of nothing. 

What  _ did  _ stir up hope was dreams of a life with Cas. Those came easy. He saw himself with a little bakery and Cas with a flower nursery. They had a house. The kind without weapons and with pictures framed on the wall. A house where the beds weren’t pull-out and where they didn’t hunt. He could see a kid, maybe. If he tried. 

The thought made him smile.

And then it struck him how dependent he was on getting Cas back. If his angel didn’t come home . . . he couldn’t see a future for himself. He shuddered. No one should be so dependent on one person. Did Sammy mean so little? Could he really put his little brother through that? Could he really let Cas’s sacrifice be in vain? 

And yet the idea of nonexistence was peaceful. He was so tired. His limbs ached and his mind was foggy. Whether it was from alcohol, exhaustion, or both, he wasn’t sure. 

But Dean never should have been saved. Cas was kind. He had said some kind things to Dean there at the end, but had they not been lies?

Dean was ‘the ultimate killer’. He was. He’d murdered too many innocent people to not be burdened with that title now. Dean Winchester was the monster children feared lived under their beds. 

Dean Winchester should have died at Billie’s hand. She would’ve let Cas go. And then his angel wouldn’t be stuck in a hellish darkness. 

“Dean?”

Dean looked up at Sam. 

“You okay? You’re awfully quiet.” 

Dean nodded and cracked the best smile he could muster. Sam frowned. “I’m fine, Sam. I mean, as fine as any of us can be.”

Sam Winchester’s real superpower? He almost always knew when Dean was lying. 

“Look,” he started. Dean braces himself for a long, unnecessary talk. “I can’t make you talk. And, I’m not gunna try. But, man, listen I —”

“I’m a bad person.” Dean surprised even himself by talking, but once he’d started, the floodgates had opened. “I — I treat women like objects.”

“You haven’t done that in a — in a  _ long  _ time, Dean. Look at how safe you make Donna feel! And Eileen loves you!” 

“I’ve always treated gay men like they were less than men. Like they were some subclass of human.”

“That’s not true at all!” Sam stumbled for an example. He closed his mouth and opened it, struggling for something to say. “Dean, you’ve changed. Everyone who knows you sees it.”

Dean flinched. “I’m selfish, Sammy. I’ve killed so many people who shouldn’t have died. I’ve killed kids —”

“Monsters.”

“And so many of them, I  _ enjoyed  _ killing. I’m an  _ animal. _ ” Dean closed his eyes, images of the things he’d done and said flashing inside his mind. “I should’ve gone in Cas’s place.”

“Dean!” 

Dean stood and started pacing, his mind reeling. “Cas was always better than me! He was always kinder! He knew what to do when things got bad! He’s the one who loved and loved and loved and never stopped! He’s the one who cared! He’s the one you want standing by your side and fighting! Not me, Sam.” He looked to Jack. “I’ve treated everyone wrong. Time and  _ time again! _ ”

Sam stood and very cautiously made his way towards Dean. And Dean’s heart broke. Sammy expected Dean to lash out. To hit him. 

Dean shrunk back. 

He was no better than their father. 

He understood now. Cas wanting to punish himself all those years ago. Try and redeem himself from his wrongdoings. Dean wanted to do that. He just didn’t know how. 

“Dean, we’re all broken. We break, and we  _ shatter.  _ And sometimes people step on our broken pieces and they get hurt. That doesn’t justify  _ anything,  _ but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it. That doesn’t mean you can’t make the future any better.”

Sam pulled Dean into a hug and, despite himself, Dean felt the tears fall. 

And he was ashamed. 

He was ashamed because he knew, however wrong it was and however little it mattered now, John Winchester would be disappointed in the weak, broken man crying into his brother’s shoulder. 


	4. Chapter Four

"So where does this leave us? We need that book open and we're out of options," Sam muttered, turning to look at Dean who was sat on the other side of the door frame.

Dean closed his eyes. The lights were bright and Sam was loud. He needed to stop drinking so much. He knew he needed a clear head with everything going on. But, something in him couldn't stop the drinking. The alcohol drowned out enough that the after-effects and the risks seemed worth it. The silence it provided was . . . peaceful.

"Where's it leave us?" Dean's voice rasped. He hadn't talked lately. Or, rather, he'd talked as little as he could. He was trying his best to appear like that fearless leader everyone expected him to be. Words made him liable to fall apart. And, after the episode at breakfast a few days ago, he wasn't going to risk it. Especially not with Archangel Mopes-A-Lot around, now. "Screwed," He continued. "I'm sure Chuck's ready to make a move."

The silence didn't last long before Dean's phone rang. The strangeness of a ringing phone in an empty world didn't strike Dean as odd, immediately. It was such a familiar sound. However, by the time he'd gotten it from his pocket and checked the Caller ID, his heart was pounding.

_Cas_.

"What?" His breath sped up. There was no way it was him. No way he could've made it out, not so soon. The Empty wanted Cas. Was desperate to keep him in its grasp.

Sam looked over, the oddity of a ringing phone finally hitting him as well.

Dean, his hand shaking, answered. "Cas?"

"Dean, I'm here." The voice was Castiel's. Plain and clear. A bit gruff, but real nonetheless. Dean's heart plummeted as Cas grunted in pain. "I'm hurt. Can you let me in?"

Dean was on his feet before his mind could process the words that had been spoken. All fogginess was gone.

He was returned to an exceedingly primitive mindset. He had only one thought: get to Cas.

He was up the stairs and to the door in mere seconds. All of which felt like hours. His mind raced. What if Cas was dying? What if it was Chuck? What if Cas hated Dean for not giving him an answer as he'd died? He hesitated at the door. What if he had imagined the call? A desperate drunken fantasy where Cas returned.

He pushed open the door.

"Wassup?"

_Not Cas not Cas not Cas not Cas not Cas not Cas —_

Dean closed the door and spun around.

"Wow! Way to treat a pal."

Dean's emotions bounced around his skull, unable to settle. It wasn't Cas. It was the opposite of Cas. It was evil incarnate. The devil who'd taken over not only Sam's body, but Cas's as well.

Sam spun around as he heard the voice behind him. A voice he was all too familiar with.

Dean's hurt and confusion quickly changed to fury.

Sam moved so that he could stand square in front of Lucifer. " _No_. You're not our 'pal'."

"Okay," Lucifer held his hands up in mock surrender. "Be honest with me, please. Would you have let me in if I said it was really me?"

Logic returned to Dean. They'd watched Lucifer die. He should be in the Empty. "You're dead."

"Uh . . . yeah, not so much. Um, after Pop nutted out and murdered pretty much everyone in the world, the Empty booted me with orders to find the missing God Book and use it on Chuck." Lucifer shrugged. "Uh, normally, I'm not very good at following orders, as you guys know, but, uh, you do not want to mess with the Empty, man. Total 'B,' especially after Jack blew up all over her and she killed Death."

Dean's fists clenched.

"I mean, guys, never a dull moment. But that's the past!" Satan continued. "What's up?! We're a team again, guys."

Dean glared. "Oh, that is _not_ happening."

—————•—————

Michael, Jack, Sam, and Dean all watched intently as the Reaper read from the God Book. They finally had something. They finally had a way to end Chuck.

"And, thus, it will be —"

Lucifer's snap rang out through the room and, within the second, the Reaper was a pillar of salt.

The book flew, still open, into Lucifer's hands. He grinned wickedly.

"Yeah," he breathed. "This is what Pop wanted to get his hands on." He gave a mock gasp. "Did I say that out loud?"

Michael watched, the turmoil growing inside of him where Adam had once been to mediate. Their father had called upon Lucifer? Upon the _problem child_?!

"Yeah, Pop was the one who let me out of the Empty. I'm sort of the new favorite now."

Dean's urge to move to Jack and pull him from the room was growing by the minute. A child once again betrayed by his father.

Michael was in no better a state of mind than his nephew. _Lucifer_? The _favorite_?!

Lucifer continued. "What did Dad say about you?" He laughed. "Oh, yeah! 'Mickey's a cuck.'"

Had Adam been there to tell Michael to simmer down, perhaps he would've. But Adam wasn't there. Chuck had taken him.

Michael eyes flash a pure blue.

Lucifer laughed once again. " _You're a cuck_!"

As if moving with the same body, Sam and Dean stepped forward, both prepared to rip the Devil to shreds.

Lucifer held a hand out, forcing them back and to the ground. "Nope."

Michael glared. Now it was his turn. He lunged forward, only for Lucifer to disappear and reappear a few feet away.

_Coward_. Michael thought.

"D'ho!" Lucifer snickered.

Michael had had enough. His hands rose and a white, radiant sphere of energy shot towards Lucifer. Again, the Devil disappeared.

"Wow, you are really getting rusty at this, Buddy." He was across the room now, drawing the attention of his son. "Bye." In the same fashion as Michael had done, Lucifer's hand stretched out and the same ball of energy sped towards Michael. The archangel, unlike his brother, did not move in time.

Jack's heart thudded. He was the only one standing now. It was just him and Lucifer — his dad.

No, not dad. Father. _Never_ dad. Cas was his dad. Dean and Sam were his dads. Not Lucifer. He'd given him life and trauma. Nothing more. He turned to face the monster.

"So . . . Buddy . . ." Lucifer swayed, as if he was trying to seem awkward. Friendly. It didn't work. He looked like a snake. "You're going to have to make a decision now. Uh, dump the losers," Lucifer pointed to Sam and Dean, still struggling to stand from the Devil's previous attack. "And join Gramps and me on the winning team." Lucifer's smile dropped. There was no second option. "Of course, that's the only way you're getting out of here alive, cause you're not strong enough to fight me, so . . ."

Something about Lucifer's words brought attention to Jack's gut. It had been a week or so since he'd felt like this. Felt . . . powerful. _He had magic_. A little bit, at least. And yet, he couldn't fathom where it had come from.

"What do you say kid? What do you say?"

Sam and Dean were standing now. Dean had a small cut on his head that was bleeding into his hair. They watched Jack.

"Come on," Lucifer continued. He'd always been good at persuading people. He expected it to work. Perhaps it would've. But, Jack's eyes flickered over his shoulder, and he knew why. "Somebody's behind me?" He turned and, lo and behold, there stood an exceedingly pissed of Michael who had no Adam as a voice of reason. Lucifer's eyes flashed red. "You don't learn."

_No I don't_. Michael lunged forward, the archangel blade sinking deep into Lucifer's stomach. The red light in his eyes flickered out as Michael pulled the sword back. The God Book fell from his hands and splayed, open, on the ground. Lucifer's head fell back and his scream echoed around the bunker. The light, as he died, seeped from his eyes and mouth. Sam and Dean looked away.

And Jack had it figured out.

As the magic and energy escaped from Lucifer, it came to him. He felt it all. It was nauseating, the intake of power, and he found his knees weaker than before. But he felt it all. And, with that energy came the smallest spark of hope.

—————•—————

Dean's foot was flushed against the ground, the Impala moving as fast as she could. They had to time it right. Michael, as planned, had warned Chuck that they were coming. That they'd found some obscure spell. It was, of course, _utter_ bullshit.

And Michael knew that. He, with a little persuasion, had agreed to help them. So long as Jack swore to bring Adam back, he would help.

Dean had question their youngest brother's relationship to Michael more than once. It had occured to him that, perhaps they were friends. Perhaps more. And the thought occured to him that it didn't matter. Michael and Adam thrived off of each other's presence. It was not dissimilar to Dean and Cas.

Cas had been the first angel to love a human. Michael had been the second.

Whether or not Michael and Adam's affection was romantic or platonic, Dean didn't know. He didn't care. Because, one way or another, they were soulmates in a very literal sense. They made each other feel happy. They made each other feel safe. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

The kid had explained how he seemed to absorb any and all energy. During the fight in the bunker, every bit of energy exerted went to Jack.

And, thus, a plan evolved.

Michael had told Chuck a lie that Sam, Dean, and Jack had found a spell to kill him. In reality, they hadn't found jack squat in the books. Michael told Chuck that the spell had to be performed in a specific place at a specific hour.

But Jack wasn't strong enough to take on God yet. He had power to match that of an archangel and then a bit. Which meant he still wasn't at full power.

If they could get Chuck to exert some of his energy, Jack would absorb it. And, even then, it was likely Jack would lose. They needed an army to defeat Chuck. An army that had open gateways between their death and life. They needed the dead angels. And they needed thousands of gateways to the Empty to be open constantly.

It was risky, but, if they could distract Chuck, Jack could open a portal and rally the angelic (and likely a few demonic) troops.

Then the praying had started. They prayed to every fallen angel in hopes that they'd at least listen. With luck, the direct prayers would wake them enough to break through the Empty's haze. If enough were awake, then the Empty couldn't put them all back to sleep at once.

They prayed. And prayed. And prayed and prayed and prayed. And then they prayed that their prayers went through.

What hadn't been expected was a response. It had come from Gabriel. He had told them that the Empty hadn't been quiet in days. Their prayers had gotten through. He, speaking directly to Michael, had said that a few of the angels were prepared to stand against Chuck, so long as it meant their freedom. And he said that every single demon he'd spoken to was ready to fight.

It wasn't a flawless plan, but it was the best they had. The portals between the Empty and Earth would be open, so angels and demons alike could filter through, even after Chuck had killed them time and time again (which, they decided, he was likely to do). The power Jack would absorb from all of their countless deaths would be enough to stop Chuck. It would be enough to strip him of his power. It would be enough to make Jack the new God.

Dean, though he wouldn't say it aloud, liked the plan because it meant Cas would be there. He would be there to fight by their side. He would be there with Dean. And maybe, after the fight, they could go on a drive and talk. Because, Heaven knew they needed to.

And so they drove on. The abandoned cars littering the road made it difficult in some spots to navigate. There were places where the pileups were so large that Dean had to pull off the road and drive around. It was eerie and they were all anxious for the bustle of humanity to return.

Dean, as they pulled into the small open field, turned to look back at Jack. "You've got this, kid."

Jack nodded, but said nothing. He was trying not to think about the aftermath of the fight, but it lingered on his mind. He would be God. All powerful.

He didn't want that, though. He just wanted to be a normal kid. He wanted to learn to tie his shoes. He wanted Sam to help get him into a good school. He wanted Dean to teach him how to bake. And maybe Cas could teach him all about real life. After all, Cas had had to figure it out. He wanted to feel like he had when Ms. Butters had been around. . . . _Before_ she had gone mad and tried to kill him, of course 

He wanted to feel normal.

But that had never been in the cards for him. Not ever.

Dean turned now to Sam. "Ready?"

"Nope," Sam inhaled deeply. "Let's go."

They all got out of the car. Maybe —if you ignored the tension in their shoulders and the exhaustion in their eyes — maybe they were just a normal family out for a picnic or a little fishing trip.

_Maybe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the rather dull chapter. It was needed to progress the plot a bit. :)


	5. Chapter Five

Sam, Dean, and Jack sat around the golden ceremonial bowl. They had real spell ingredients, of course. Just, none that, all together, would make a real spell. Now all they had to do was look busy until Chuck showed up. 

Dean was having a hard time focusing. Sam was doing no better, he just knew how to pretend as though he was attentive to their current task. 

“Dean,” he finally snapped, glaring at his brother. “What the hell are you thinking about?! Focus, man.”

The eldest Winchester frowned. “Remember when I had the Mark?” That caught Sam off guard. “Cas . . . told me something, then. He, uh, he said that, even after everyone else was dead, he would still be here to watch me murder the world.”

Sam didn’t want to be uncaring. But . . . “Dean, how is this relevant?” 

“I just wish he was here. I wish he’d kept that promise.” 

Sam’s frustration didn’t dissipate, but it softened. “Look, I know everything’s weird and confusing for you right now, okay. And I know that you’re torn between Cas and everything Dad forced into your mind, but you have to  _ focus.  _ We’ll see Cas soon, but only if we make this plan work. Okay?” 

Dean’s face flushed. He didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or frustration or something else entirely but he hated it. He felt so vulnerable now. Like Cas had taken Dean’s armor with him. He couldn’t process anything anymore. Every new thought was an incoming tsunami that was destined to drown him. And Dean felt like he was stuck at the bottom of the ocean right about now. 

_ Focus. _ He thought.  _ Just a bit longer. And then you can yell at Cas for doing whatever he’s done to you.  _

Dean spared a glance at Jack who was listening intently. And then to Sam, who was trying to focus on making it look like he was preparing a spell. 

Michael was meant to arrive with Chuck as part of the plan. Supposed to make it look like his loyalties lied with God instead of the Winchesters. 

So, when Dean saw Michael standing behind Sammy, he could only assume who was standing behind him. Even with only one true enemy here, the terrifying feeling of being surrounded began to creep in. 

Dean turned to face Chuck. 

Chuck said nothing as he watched the boys. His eyes flickered between the bowl and Jack and then back to the brothers. He grew angrier with every passing second. 

Sam and Dean hadn’t even managed to pull themselves into defensive positions when Chuck, with a flick of his wrist, cast them aside. Dean rolled, sprawling, with his back against a log. Sam, on the other hand, got a mouthful of sand he hadn’t quite been expecting. 

Jack stepped forward. He couldn’t use his powers. Not yet. Chuck would kill him as soon as he knew that Jack was a threat. But, as of right now, he was just a pesky gnat. And Chuck swatted him away as such. 

Michael smiled. “Father.”

Chuck didn’t smile back. “Son.” He glanced around. “And, listen, I appreciate the heads-up about . . . all this.”

“It’s always been my destiny to serve you.”

Sam, Jack, and Dean all tried their best to look startled and betrayed. 

Chuck, still, was not amused. “Yeah . . . the thing is, it’s kind of late in the game. You did side with the Winchesters. I can’t forgive that.”

They knew this was likely to happen. They knew Chuck was likely to take Michael’s life at some point. And the gateways between the Empty and Earth would open and he would return. And yet, despite this knowledge, Michael was afraid. “Father, no.” He held out his hands. A final plea, maybe one not entirely untruthful. “That was a lapse of judgment, I admit, but I swear I —“

Chuck’s arm reached out, his eyes flashing dangerously. The same blue as Michael’s. “Save it!”

The skin of Michael’s vessel cracked as Chuck slowly combusted his soul. He’d thought it would be fast. A snap and then peace. It wasn’t. It  _ hurt.  _ And he couldn’t move. Couldn’t cry out. He was stuck, feeling the cracks rip along his flesh, up his throat and face. It was inside his body, too. Torment parallel to that of Hell. 

He wanted Adam. 

And then he was gone. Forced away in a spectral of white light. 

Somewhere, in Heaven, a young man felt the shift in his soul as Michael died. He wanted to leave. Help his friend. But he was drawn back into a time loop that no longer gave him joy. 

Chuck wiped his hands off, as if just finishing some dirty task. Sam and Dean pushed themselves to their feet. And Jack fell back to the ground as he absorbed all of Michael’s energy. He still wasn’t powerful enough. He’d need more. 

Chuck stepped forward and began a speech he’d probably rehearsed in his head for days. Weeks. Maybe even years. But, now it was Jack’s turn. 

In order to open the rifts without alerting Chuck, he’d have to ward them each specially. A powerful warding for each rift would drain him, which meant he’d need even MORE power. But, once the rift was open, it would stop draining him. 

_ Gabriel first _ , He told himself, focus on Gabriel’s rift and then move to the next. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer.  _ Gabriel, it’s time.  _

—————•—————

Castiel’s eyes opened to darkness. There was an unsteady feeling in the air. Well, more so than usual. A tension. 

“Awake again, angel?” Cas shuddered. He would never adjust to his voice so close. So  _ real.  _ It was a torment the Empty intended to continue. The footsteps echoed oddly as the Empty walked around his body. And there, in front of him, stood Dean Winchester. 

But not his Dean Winchester, not the Dean he knew. It was as if the Empty had taken Dean and made him sickly sweet. Everything that someone may call an imperfection was removed. He stood perfectly straight. His face was smooth, abandoned by lines of worry or stress. His hair was ever so perfectly disheveled and it made Castiel feel sick. 

“I would rather not be.” His mind wandered to Dean’s prayers in his head. They came loud and clear when he was asleep. Apologies, mostly. But there were the echoes of a plan, occasionally. A plan to finally kill God. He couldn’t speak back when he was so fast asleep, and the Empty would ensure that he would never have a true conversation with Dean Winchester. Not while he was in its care. 

But, as he thought of Dean, he heard something he hadn’t expected. Hadn’t  _ wanted _ . Dean’s voice was softer than usual, and frantic. “ _ I don’t think I’m gunna make it this time, Cas.”  _ There were breaks in Dean’s prayer, as if to the rhythm of a beating. “ _ I’m scared. _ ” Chuck. Cas’s heart plummeted. Surely this was another elaborate hoax of the Empty. 

“Stop,” He begged, covering his ears and rolling to his stomach. 

The prayer continued. “ _ But if I do, I can’t wait to see you on the other side of this — _ ” and his voice stopped. 

“STOP IT! HAVEN’T YOU TORMENTED ME ENOUGH?!” The angel bellowed. It was futile, but he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled forward all the same. Perhaps he was aiming to hurt the Empty. Perhaps just to distract it. Perhaps he intended to rip off that horrible face so perfectly dissimilar to Dean’s. 

The Empty caught him in his arms and pulled him close. It was disgusting. Horrible. Cas wanted nothing more than to push himself away and fall back to the ground. But the Empty wasn’t going to have it. 

It drew its all too familiar lips to Cas’s ear and hissed, “You should know he’d never love you back, silly.” Cas closed his eyes. “Even in those pathetic prayers he can’t say it. Just apologizes for letting you die.  _ He doesn’t love you. _ ” Castiel’s head dropped to the side. 

“Let him go.”

Cas opened his eyes to none other than Gabriel. He stood, arms spread as if about to open his wings. 

Cas’s eyes drooped. He was so tired. But here was Gabriel, standing up for his little brother. Protecting him. 

Seeing Gabriel made him think of Sam. Thinking of Sam made him think of . . . Castiel’s eyes closed. 

“Come’n, Cassie!” Gabriel shouted. “They’re ready for us! They need you!” 

Cas heard his words, but he couldn’t focus. They were ready? For what? He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. And there was Dean, cooing in his ear again, “That’s right, angel. Go to sleep.”

Gabriel lunged forward as Cas dropped to the ground, unmoving. He was so close — he’d grab Cas and run. There should be a rift around here —

Green. Gabriel blinked. It was bright and green. And there was Sam! And Dean! 

Cas. 

Gabriel turned back to the rift. It had opened in between him and Cas. He had to bring his brother! 

He didn’t have the chance to push his way back through before there was darkness once more. Was he dead?

He couldn’t see Cas. 

There was a rift opening again to his left. He had to hope Castiel could find his way. He had to hope. The Winchesters needed as many angels as they could get. He had to go back. With or without his brother. 

When he emerged again, Sam, Dean and Jack stood at the center of a crowd of angels and demons. 

At their feet lay a broken God. 

Gabriel should’ve felt something. Maybe love for his father? He felt betrayed instead. 

Dean’s voice could now be heard over the angels and demons. “This monster is yours. Do what you want.” And he, Sam, and Jack left the circle. 

Sam spotted Gabriel first and rushed over. “Gabe!” He shouted, hugging the archangel. “Good to see you!” 

Gabe did his best to smile. “Yeah! Yeah you too!” 

Dean made his way over next. He looked like a little lost sheep. No. No, he was the shepherd. Castiel was away from the 99 and his shepherd searched for him. 

Dean’s eyes met Gabriel’s and the angel understood the look. He’d felt that too. Except he’d never had a chance with his. 

“He didn’t make it through, did he?” Dean’s voice wavered. 

Gabriel bowed his head. “I tried. But —”

“The Empty,” Dean finished. “Yeah.” 

Sam was silent. Jack was meeting other angels. Taking notes about things they wanted to improve. Meeting his family. 

“He talked about you, though,” Gabriel said, stumbling for something to lift Dean’s spirits a bit. 

Dean looked away. “That’s not bringing him back any time soon.” He finally looked at Sam. “Let’s go set the world right.” 

Sam gave a quick smile to Gabriel who knew it was nothing more than friendly and yet still felt his soul stutter in its place. “You know where the bunker is?” He asked, allowing Dean to go get Jack. 

“I do, yes.” 

“Awesome! I’m sure Eileen would like you.” 

Gabriel bit his tongue. He didn’t have to read between many lines to figure out who Eileen was to Sam. “Sounds good! I’m sure there’s going to be homework before recess for us angels, though.” 

Sam nodded and said goodbye before following Dean and Jack back to the Impala. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, who had ‘Misha Collins and Bill Clinton sex scandal’ breaking the 5th seal for 2020 Bingo?


	6. Chapter Six

The drive back to the town square was . . . strange, to say the least. They had won, sure. A good few angels had returned. They would help Jack set everything the way it should be. And, with Rowena still in charge of Hell, perhaps the angels and demons would work as a unit now. Instead of fighting, maybe they could work together. 

“That must’ve been strange for them,” Sam finally muttered. He’d been toying with a button on his jacket for the past fifteen minutes, lost in thought. 

“What?”

“The angels. Most of them had never seen their father before. And then . . . to see him for the first time only to seek vengeance on him —” Sam shrugged. “It just must’ve been weird.”

Dean didn’t respond. No matter what he tried to think about, his mind always wandered back to Cas. Jack could bring him back, surely. And, perhaps Dean wouldn’t have to ask for it. Maybe Jack, who was the closest thing Cas had to a son, would bring him back all on his own. He could do it with a snap of his fingers now that he had so much power. 

But Dean knew that that was just a silly excuse put in place to push aside his fears and anxieties. He knew that he should be the one to mention it. Maybe bring it up in passing? But then he thought of their possible reunions. He wanted to see Cas again. More than anything. But it was his fault Cas had died. And they were always arguing. And Dean was an  _ asshole.  _ Why was he always such an asshole?!

“Dean! Dean, the road!” 

Sam pulled the wheel to the right, steering them around a stationary car just in time to avoid a collision. 

Dean hit the break and stopped the car. 

“You should drive.” 

“What?” 

“Sammy, there is nobody but us on the road and I just about hit a car. Maybe you should drive.” Dean opened his door without another word and got out. He moved around the front and opened Sam’s door. “Would you like for me to say ‘please’?”

Sam shook his head and got out, circling the car in the same fashion as his brother. When he had the car moving again, Sam chanced a conversation. 

“Thinking about him?” 

Dean hated how that sounded.  _ Him.  _ It made Cas sound so Saint-like. So holy. Like he was Jesus or some other revered religious figure. Like Jesus’s dad, David, or whatever. 

And it made it so personal. Like Dean _belonged_ to Cas or vise-versa. But did it really make Dean uncomfortable? Or did it make Dean think he _should be_ uncomfortable. 

He rubbed his temple. “Yes.”

“Wanna talk?”

Dean took a moment. He didn’t know how to get the words out. He didn’t know where to start, but he did want to talk. For the first time in a long time, he genuinely wanted to just . . . vent. Spill everything. 

His mind, however, felt like one of those case boards detectives used. The ones where there were pictures and notes and papers connected by the red strings. It was a jumbled mess that Dean wasn’t sure how to navigate. 

So he tried to start from the beginning. 

“Dad never . . . I don’t know. He was never explicit about . . .  _ anything.  _ He assumed I’d fall in love with some woman and marry her or something. And he told me that enough that I started thinking the same thing, too, I guess. And, while you were at Stamford, we went on a lot of cases. Just the two of us. We talked more than we had before. I got to know him better. And, l — looking back, Sammy, I turned into a mini John Winchester. The girls, the booze, the clubs, all of it. And, I think maybe I did it to live up to him.”

Dean took a breath before continuing. “And then, when he died, I didn’t have that shadow of him looming over me, telling me who to be. And I can see how I changed and how I grew thanks to that freedom 

“The me who went on cases with Dad  _ never  _ would’ve gone on a case with Charlie. Not unless I thought she would. . .” Dean grimaced. “Man, I  _ sucked.  _ I became the man I grew up swearing I wouldn’t be. But, the longer I was away from Dad, the more like  _ me  _ I felt.”

Sam didn’t interrupt him. He simply nodded and gave hums of agreements when it was appropriate. 

“And then —do you remember that case with the siren?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said slowly. “Why?” Dean stayed silent for a moment while Sam mulled over it. “He was a guy for you.” 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. And, you know, I brushed it off as like a ‘This is the kind of best friend I want’ thing. And, in a sense, I guess it was right. I stopped thinking about it for a while and then I realized that not only was the siren a guy. He was a dark haired, blue eyes guy. He was someone who I knew could be my best friend. And, looking back, man . . . he was pretty freaking ideal.” Dean hesitated. “Besides the fact that he was a monster.”

From the backseat, Jack snorted softly. “You guys never told me about this hunt.” 

Sam made a quick shushing motion. “He never talks like this. Just give him a minute.” 

Dean simply glared before continuing. “It took me a few years of mulling over that case for me to realize that the siren was, in a strange twisted way, similar to Cas. That was when I started putting things together, I think. And it scared the  _ shit  _ out of me. It still does. Because, if it was just Cas that I could look at like that, I could argue my way out of freaking out. Because, technically, Cas isn’t human. He doesn’t have a gender which means that I’m not gay if I have feelings about him that are sometimes a bit more-than-platonic.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “And, don’t get me wrong, girls are  _ great.  _ And I still like them like I always have. And yet, even though I know that I’ve got feelings for Cas, I think — I think I could have feelings for other dudes, too.

“And that scares me. Dad got me to go with what he wanted for over thirty years, Sam. And I feel like I’m pushing against it now and it feels  _ wrong.  _ But at the same time, I feel more like me when I allow myself to think about stuff like that. 

“And I was finally,  _ finally  _ starting to come to terms with who I may be when Cas decided to drop the bomb and I just . . . froze. It was, like, all that time I’d taken telling myself that who I was was okay went out the window. And suddenly I was 17 and Johnathan Blackwell was talking to me in the boys locker room about how he thought I was cute and I — and I  _ laughed _ at him. It felt like that. It felt awful. Because I couldn’t say  _ anything.” _

It took Dean a moment to realize that he was wringing his hands together. He shoved his fingers under his thighs and took a deep breath. 

“Cas told me . . .  _ that  _ and I froze. I wanted to say it back.” Even now, Dean couldn’t force those words out of his mouth. They were three extremely common words, and yet he just couldn’t say them. “I wanted nothing more than to tell him that he wasn’t alone and that he never had been. But it felt like Dad was right there in the corner, judging me. And I froze. 

“I keep looking back at whatever moments of Cas’s and mine I can remember and I’m thinking about them all differently. Little, unnecessary words I’m only hearing now. Side glances I didn’t think anything of. Little things. That pit in my stomach when he and Meg were . . . whatever they were. All of it, Sammy. It hits me like a brick to the face every time I think about it. And I just wish . . . I wish I could’ve said it back.”

Dean leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “It sucks man. Cause only now that he’s gone am I imagining a future. And it’s a damn good future.” 

Sam was silent for a long time before saying, “It sounds like you’ve given up any hope of getting him back.” 

Dean spared a glance at Jack who was looking intently out of the window. “I haven’t given up. I just — I’m scared. I’m scared he’ll hate me. I’m scared that I’ll freeze up again. I’m scared I’m imagining all of these feelings as a way to cope. I’m scared because it’s  _ my fault,  _ Sam. He — he died because he loved me.  _ Me! _ ” 

“It is  _ not  _ your fault, Dean. He made his own decisions.”

“But I made all of the ones that led to that final option.” 

Sam sighed. “That doesn’t make it your fault. If it hadn’t happened that night, Dean, you both would’ve died. And, if by some miracle you both came back, Cas’s deal with the Empty would still stand and he would never have been happy. I think . . . I think what happened was the best way for it to have happened. Now we’ve just got to get him back.” 

“And, how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

Sam was silent for a while longer. “Jack?” 

The kid looked up, eyes wide. “Yeah?”

Dean took over the conversation. “Can you bring him back?” 

Jack took a deep breath and let a smile wash over his face. “Have patience, Dean. Time will reveal fate.” 

Dean turned back around to keep himself from yelling.

_ Have patience?!  _ What did that even mean?! ‘Sure, I’ll bring him back, but you’ve got to wait a while.’ As what?! Punishment?!

Dean ignored the sympathetic look from Sam and stared out the window instead. 

“I was too late, Sammy. And that’s my fault.” 

Sam didn’t respond as they continued towards town. 

Ten minutes later and they were parked in the middle of the road. They stood around the Impala and Jack had his eyes closed tight. Dean silently prayed that Cas would appear with all of those people Jack brought back. 

But, as people seemed to be sucked back into existence, Dean saw no sign of the angel. 

No one seemed to notice that anything had happened. They all bustled about and drove by as if everything was completely normal. 

And then Dean saw the dog. “Miracle!” He gasped, lurching forward to follow the dog. “Miracle!” He called, louder this time. The dog stopped and regarded Dean with a violently wagging tail. 

Dean crouched down and opened his arms. A gesture the dog was all too happy to run to. Dean wrapped his arms around Miracle and did his best to still the wriggling mass of fur long enough to bury his face in the dog’s neck. 

“Man, I’m glad you’re okay,” he breathed, finally picking Miracle up and carrying him back to the car. “Sammy!” He shouted. “Look who I found!” 

“The dog?” 

“His name is Miracle. He’s gunna come home with us.” 

Sam nodded stiffly. “Can we . . . can we go pick up Eileen? Bring her back with us?” 

Despite all of his frustration and confusion about Cas, Dean felt himself soften. “Of course we can. Hop in. Let’s go home.” 

Dean was halfway into the car (Miracle already situated in the back) when he realized that Jack hadn’t gotten in. “Come’n, kid. Let’s go.” 

Jack smiled softly. “I’m not coming.”

“What?” Dean closed the door and was in front of Jack before he could think. “Of course you are! You’re family, Jack.”  _ Please, kid, I can’t lose you, too. _

“I will be back before long, Dean. Don’t worry. But the angels and I have work to do in Heaven and I’ve got to fix the worlds Chuck destroyed.” Jack wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and hugged him with a tight squeeze. “I’ll be back before long. A week or less, I’m sure. It’ll be like I’m off at college or something. I’ll come and go. But I know where my home is, Dean. And I’ll always come back in the end.”

Dean hugged Jack back without hesitation. “You grew up so fast, kid.”

“I was born to grow up fast.” His smile faded. “Just, don’t do anything stupid. I may not be able to get to you if you need my help. Not if I’m in the middle of resetting an entire planet.” 

Dean nodded and let him go. “Don’t be gone too long.”

Jack stepped back and raised a hand in farewell. Dean couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as Jack seemed to fade into the wind. 

When they made it back to the car, Dean had a strange calm about him. Something he couldn’t explain. It was a sense of finality, and yet, he couldn’t figure out what felt so final. He tried to shrug it off as he drove away, but it was still there. Still nagging at his mind. 

That would have to be a problem for a later date. For now, they would get Eileen, invite everyone they could think of over, go home, order pizza, and finally relish in their newly-won freedom. 

And then Dean would get Cas back. If it took a day, a week, a month, or years. He would get him back. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Time felt nonexistent. Perhaps it was the ceaseless expanse of nothingness that constantly surrounded him, or perhaps it was the fact that he was always in and out of sleep. Either way, Cas couldn’t make heads or tails of how long he’d been in the Empty. 

“ _ Go to sleep!”  _ Dean’s voice hissed in his ear. 

It took him a moment to remember that it wasn’t Dean. It took him a moment to remember that Dean wasn’t going to come for him. Dean had never loved Cas, and that was okay. Because Cas didn’t have to deal with that, now. 

Cas was sure that the Winchester’s plan had succeeded. And, so, Dean would move on. He’d find a girl, he’d get married, and have a kid. He would finally be  _ happy.  _ That was all Cas had ever wanted — for Dean Winchester to be happy. What  _ he _ felt didn’t matter, because, in the end, it had always been for Dean. 

“Please,” Cas muttered, closing his eyes again. “Make me sleep.”

_ “Gladly.” _ The Empty reached out with the sickly perfect hand of Dean Winchester and sent Cas back into a not-so-peaceful sleep. 

He didn’t know how long it had been when he woke once again. But he was awake. And instantly, the Empty was upon him. But it wasn’t Dean this time. 

“Claire?”

“ _ Not quite.” _

Cas sighed. “Right. Well, look, I don’t want to be awake any more than you  _ want  _ me to be awake, so . . .”

Without another word, Castiel was once more asleep. 

_ This isn’t right.  _ That was his first thought when his eyes opened. He was in a room of grey stone. The walls were lined with moss and flowers. A small fountain trickled in the corner, a stone pomegranate at its center. 

“Castiel.”

Cas pushed himself from the floor to face the voice. Upon a silver throne sat a rather pale man. He had dark hair pulled back in a bun. And, despite the lines of worry, he had a kind face. 

Beside him was a woman. She was beautiful. Eyes of honey and hair much the same. She was tan with a spray of dark freckles across her nose. Tucked behind her ear was a simple flower. 

It all came rushing back. He’d forgotten it all? Surely not. So many years . . . how could he forget so many years? Castiel’s head throbbed as new memories rushed in. 

_ Focus. Focus, Cas _ . He scolded himself.  _ Deal with that later. What’s going on?  _

Castiel finally gained enough wit about him to kneel before the thrones. “My Lord, Hades,” he breathed. “And the Lady Persephone. You are as vibrant as ever.”

“I see time has not dimmed your flattery, Castiel,” Hades said, amused. 

“I’m afraid it did,” was all Cas could say. “For quite a while.”

There was silence for a moment before Persephone spoke up. “I am sure you have questions, old friend.”

“I do.”

She nodded and, from the ground, a stump seemed to grow. A seat. 

Cas sat down and looked between the god and goddess. “You’ve rescued me,” he noted. “Why?”

“Right to the point, I see.” Hades, from thin air, produced a small wooden instrument. A lyre. “Do you recognize this?”

Castiel froze. “That’s Orpheus’s lyre.”

“It is.”

Persephone now spoke. “I regret a loss from long ago, Castiel. The young woman, Eurydice. Their story, like many stories of old,” she gave Cas a very pointed look. “is exceedingly tragic. While they now are together, their time apart was painful to witness.” She drew a breath. “Your entire life has played out before you like a tragedy for someone else’s entertainment.”

“We have heard the lamenting of your Dean Winchester,” Hades spoke, lying the lyre across his lap and plucking at the strings. 

And Castiel’s heart stopped. Dean mourned? He . . .  _ lamented?  _ No. No no no  _ no.  _ He was supposed to be happy! Move on! How long had it been? How long had Dean been in mourning. 

Hades pressed on. “In fact, it has been a long time since I have heard such sorrow. I would wage a bet and say that . . . the gods at the bottom of the sea have heard Dean Winchester.”

Cas looked to his hands. “I had forgotten  _ him _ ,” he breathed. His mind wandered back to golden hair and a sword dripping in blood. “But I remember now.”

“You were Patroclus.” It was not a question. 

“I was . . . a  _ part _ of Patroclus. My entire garrison was among the Hellenes during the war. We — we shared consciousness with many. I was stationed with Patroclus. And, as I tend to do, I grew too close to the humans.”

“But  _ he _ was not a human.” 

“No . . .” Cas’s breath was wispy. How had he forgotten one so magnificent? “He was much more. And that was not only my downfall, but Patroclus’ as well. We both fell for the Golden Prince and —” Cas grimaced. “And it was my fault Patroclus died.”

“How so?” 

Cas felt an urge to glare. Hades knew the story as well as Cas. Why was he making him relive it?! He, however, refrained from being rude. Cas may be an angel, but Hades was a god. And, while kind most of the time, he made sure you knew your rank. 

“Had I not grown so close to Achilles, Anna would not have pulled me away. And Patroclus would not have been left, powerless, on the battlefield to die at Hector’s hand.”

“Anna wiped your memory, did she not?”

“She took all of my memories from my time with Achilles and Patroclus, yes.” And then it struck him. “Why do I remember now?”

Hades smiled as if Cas had finally gotten the punchline to a joke. He held up a vile of glowing white. 

Castiel’s grace. 

“What? I’m human, then?”

“You are.”

“Then why didn’t I remember the last time I was human?” 

“Because Chuck did not want you to. It didn’t fit in his plot well enough.” 

Cas looked down a grin taking his face. “They did it then? They won?” 

“They won not too long ago, yes.”

“How long has it been since I died?” 

“A little over a week.” 

Cas’s heart leapt. It hadn’t been long! Cas could get to Dean! 

He could’ve cried of pure joy. 

“He is here, you know?” Persephone said. 

“Dean?” A jolt of excitement shot through Cas. 

“No,” she laughed. “No. Achilles. He is down the hall.”

That made Cas pause. “I do not wish to see him.”

“Why not?”

“He is with Patroclus. He is happy. And I have Dean Winchester to get back to.” 

Persephone’s face broke into a wide grin. “I am glad that is your answer.”

Hades held Cas’s grace out towards him with a smile. “Be careful with this, Castiel. Keep it safe. Or, better yet, toss it to the bottom of the sea. If you are not an angel, the Empty cannot take you back. And, trust me, it will not be happy about our little jailbreak.” 

Cas nodded and tucked the grace into his pocket. 

Cas turned to leave the hall when Hades called back to him. “Castiel?” 

“Yes?”

“You should hurry. I have a rather bad feeling surrounding your Winchester.”

Cas nodded and turned once more. He waited until he was through the door to begin running. There was flight after flight of stairs. Hallway after hallway. 

He exploded into a dark, musty room. The only source of light was the moon, filtering through the doors. 

Cas was in the barn where he’d met Dean. 

He took only a moment before running out. He had to get to the road. He had to get a ride. If Dean was about to do something stupid, Cas had to stop him. But he didn’t have a phone.  _ And he didn’t know Dean’s number.  _ Cas groaned internally as he came to a stop at the edge of a freeway. 

A pinprick of light came from over a hill and he flagged down the car. A little old man pulled over in a broken down red Chevy. 

“You alright, young man? Awfully odd place to be.”

“I was wondering if you could give me a ride? I’ll pay you as soon as we get there. I just don’t have the money on me now.”

The man regarded Cas with an unreadable expression before unlocking the door. “Sure thing kid. Where to?” 

“Lebanon, Kansas.” 

“Alrighty. I’m headed that way anywho. Name’s Stanly, by the way.”

“Castiel.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Castiel.” He regarded Cas with an odd look for a moment. “You running to or away from something?” 

“Running to some _ one _ , I suppose.” 

“Well, she must be a lucky girl to have you running halfway across the country for her.”

Cas heisted. “He is.”

The man looked at Cas sideways, swerving into the other lane for a moment. 

“Hmm. You know, a few years ago,” his voice was soft. “I would’ve kicked you out then and there.” 

Cas should’ve felt offended, but, at the moment, his blood was pumping much too fast for that. He was free. He was  _ alive.  _ He was going to see Dean! And Sam! And Jack! 

“What changed?” He finally asked. 

Stanly chuckled. “God, I s’pose. I was visiting this church and a man came in and . . . well, uh, claimed to be God and killed the preacher.”

Cas felt the air leave his body. “Oh?” His voice cracked. 

“I know. It’s a strange thing to cause a change of mind. But . . . the way he did it. He really seemed to be God. It was a strange sight to behold, but it got me thinking about things. And, it got me thinking about what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“That he had no preference of sexual orientation.”

Cas chewed his cheek. 

“So, you can understand how flabbergasted I am to be picking that man up off the side of the road.”

Cas deflated. His mind was panicking. What did he say?! ‘That had been my angsty, rebellious teen phase’? But that was a blatant lie. 

“That was, uh, a dark time for me.” 

The man was silent for a long while. “Is God hitchhiking in my car?”

And Cas couldn’t help but to laugh. It was all so absurd. He’d been alive for, what, fifteen minutes? The first person he meets is a man who witnessed a rather dark side of him  _ years  _ ago and happens to recognize Cas? 

“No. No, I am not god. I was an angel. God was, uh, well, kind of a bad guy. It’s very complicated.”

There was utter silence as the man swiveled his head between the road and Cas. 

“What?”

And so Cas started from the beginning. He started from when he met Dean and Bobby and he talked all through the night. 

When he finished, they sat in silence. Stanly was trying to digest it all. 

“So then . . .”

“It’s all real, yes.” 

There was more silence as Stanly continued to process. 

“And you . . . you’re in love with this Dean fellow?” 

“Before I lost my grace for the first time, I wasn’t sure. Angel’s don’t feel emotions. At least, not in the same way as humanity. However, once I was human, I was positive. Even after I got my grace back, those emotions were still there. As strong and persistent as ever.” Cas pulled the small vial of his grace out. “And now . . . now it’s crushing me in the most magnificent way. It’s like I’m suffocating from the pure knowledge that this man walks the Earth.” He shook the vial gently and watched the grace swirl. “It’s strange that this little thing here changes so very much.”

“You are a curious man, Castiel,” Stanly gauffed. 

“So I’ve been told.”

“And the preacher, then? You  _ were  _ the one to kill him.” 

“I was.” 

“Were you angry?”

Cas shrugged. “Annoyed.” He stuffed the grace back into his coat. “I’m not sure when humans decided that two people of the same gender loving one another was a sin. God himself, so he says, has had a few boyfriends. It must have happened at some point in the 1800s, but, either way, it’s an annoying thing to take away from a book written by humans.” 

Stanly seemed pressed by one more question. “And, uh, God? He was bad?” 

“Not in his mind, I’m sure. But, he wiped out hundreds of thousands of worlds before extinguishing all life on ours. I cannot pretend to truly understand the deeper reasoning behind everything he has done. All I can say is that, now, he can do no more harm.” 

They were in the Lebanon town square now. 

“I don’t think I’m ever going to forget you,” Stanly chuckled. “Who would’ve guessed that, after 73 years of life, I meet an angel who aided in God’s downfall?”

“In all honesty, I’m surprised you were so ready to believe me.” 

“Young man, I saw what you did in that church. And, if it’s not God’s Will that I meet you again now, then I don’t know what it is.”

Cas smiled and looked over at Stanly. “I am glad you had a change of heart.” 

The bunker was in view now. No Impala. But, that was okay. It was likely in the garage. 

“I’m glad you’re following  _ your  _ heart, kid.” 

“I am  _ much  _ older than you. You do realize that?” 

“Not anymore you’re not. Now you’re about the same age as my son.” 

Cas frowned. “That’s . . . not how time works.” 

The car pulled to a stop in front of the bunker door. Stanly turned to smile at Cas. “You go get your boy and I’m going to go home and tell everyone that an angel hitchhiked in my car.” 

Cas couldn’t help but laugh. “I doubt anyone will believe you.”

“I’d have to agree with you. But, it’s better to be a crazy old man than a boring one.” 

“Thank you for the ride, Stanly. But I have a rather sad man I need to get to.”

“Indeed you do.”

“Goodbye.”

Stanly smiled again. A kind smile. A look Cas imagined a parent may give their child. It was warm and it made Cas happy.

“Goodbye, Castiel the Angel. I do hope our paths cross again. And I do hope that, when they do, you’ve got Dean Winchester at your side.” 

Cas smiled at the thought and made his way out of the car. “Oh!” He gasped, turning around. “How much would you like me to pay you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. The experience was payment enough.” 

“Thank you. If I do not see you before, I’m sure I’ll see you someday in Heaven.” 

Stanly waved and drove off, leaving Cas in front of the bunker. 

As Castiel turned to face the door, nerves took over once more. Would Dean want to see him? Hades said he mourned Cas, but, there was always the chance he mourned as a friend. A brother. Cas wasn’t opposed to the idea of simply being friends. He knew  _ his _ feelings went beyond platonic, but, whatever made Dean happy, Cas was okay with. 

Cas opened the door.

“Sam? Dean?” He called out. “Jack? Anyone here?”

No response. He moved down the steps and into the hallway. 

“It’s Cas! I promise, I’m not a shifter or anything!” He added as a precaution. He didn’t want to be brought back only to get shot by one of them. 

But nobody was home. 

He made his way into Dean’s room where he knew he kept spare phones. And, after a bit of rifling, he found them in a desk drawer. He picked one up and scrolled until he found Dean’s contact. 

It rang. And rang. And rang.  _ “This is Dean’s other  _ other _ cell. You know what to do.”  _

Cas groaned and waited until the beep. “Dean, it’s me — it’s Cas. I’m at the bunker. I — I don’t know where you are. Come home. Please.” 

He tried Sam next. Same thing. He left the same message. 

He clicked Bobby’s contact next. He picked up on the first ring. 

“ _ Hello _ ?”

“Bobby,” Cas let out a sigh of relief. “It’s Cas. I just got back to the bunker and —”

“ _ Cas? You’re — you’re back?”  _

“Yes. I’m back. Where are Sam, Dean, and Jack?” 

_ “When did you get back?” _

“Last night. Bobby, where are they?” 

“ _ How?” _

“It’s a long story which I will gladly sit down and tell  _ after  _ I find the boys. Where are they?” 

There was a moment of silence before Bobby responded. “ _ Vamp case, I think. Why?”  _

“Hades said something. I’m worried about Dean. He’s not answering. Neither is Sam. Where’s the case?” 

_ “Hades?” _

“Bobby,  _ where are they?”  _

_ “I don’t know. Uh, Ohio, I think _ .”

“Can you track them?”

“ _ Not quickly. But Charlie can.” _

“Call Charlie. Find out where they are. I’ll start heading towards Ohio. Call me when you’ve got their location.” 

_ “Alright. May be a while. _ ”

“Be fast.” And, with that, Cas hung up. 

He pulled out a map and traced the line from Lebanon to Ohio. That drive would take at least a day. He may not have that kind of time. He’d have to fly. 

He knew Bobby would be talking to Charlie now, but she could get him a ticket, easy. So, he made his way to the library where, with luck, they should have an angel blade. And, lo and behold, there was one situated nicely in a glass casing. 

As he was leaving, a small blood smear behind one of the book cases caught his attention. It looked fresh, but, not as though it had been made that day. He would look at it later. For now, he should call Charlie. 

He was glad to find that Bobby had finished talking to her. So, when Cas called, she picked up immediately. 

“ _ Cas _ ?” She sounded excited. 

Cas set his grace down on Dean’s bedside table. “Hello, Charlie. I wish I had time for pleasantries and I know you’re tracking Sam and Dean —”

“ _ Oh, I’ve already got them. I was about to call Bobby, but this works even better. They’re on the interstate. It looks like they’re headed to Canton, Ohio.”  _

Cas let out a breath. “Okay, can you get me a plane ticket by any chance?” 

_ “Easy peasie.”  _ Cas heard vague sounds of a keyboard. “ _ Give me a minute. I’m just going to use Sam and Dean’s card. I’ll send the plane ticket to your phone — well, Dean’s phone — and you can use that as a virtual ticket.”  _

“That’s a thing?” 

_ “In most airports. If not, they’ll have someone who can print it out. You’re lucky, there’s a flight to the Akron-Canton Airport leaving in a few hours. You can make it with time to spare.” _

_ “ _ I don’t  _ have _ time to spare. Dean could be in trouble.” 

Silence for a moment. “ _ Okay. Um,”  _ Charlie stumbled over her words “ _ That’s the earliest flight. It leaves in three hours. It’s the quickest way, Cas.” _

Cas made his way to the garage and grabbed the keys to Sam’s car. “Alright, thank you Charlie. Send me the ticket as soon as you’ve got it. And, tell me if they stop somewhere or change directions. You’ve been a huge help.” 

“ _ Make sure he’s okay, Cas. He was . . . pretty broken up.”  _

“I have no intention of letting anything happen to Dean.” 

With that, Cas hung up the phone and got in the car. As he started the car, the phone vibrated. That would be Charlie sending him the ticket. 

The airport was close. Only a 20 minute drive. Cas would have trouble getting through security with his angel blade, but, he’d figure it out. It didn’t matter what he had to do, he was getting to Dean. 

He was pulling into the airport parking lot when he realized he’d left his grace on the table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, which will go unwritten, is simply Misha’s TSA America: “Just Relax”. 
> 
> (I beg of you, if you haven’t seen it, watch it on YouTube. It is the best thing I’ve ever seen.)


	8. Chapter Eight

“So, what?” Dean chanced a smirk. “You, like, the big boss or something?”

Jenny shook her head. “No. I just called dibs.”

The strangest sense of calm washed over Dean. Whatever happened, it would be okay. If he died, he died. If they turned him into a vampire, then he would kill himself before he ever allowed himself to feed. 

Jenny lifted her head and put her teeth on full display so that Dean could watch as her fangs dropped down. 

He didn’t flinch.

And then her head was on the ground, rolling away in a nearly humorous fashion. Sam had saved the day once again. 

With the other two vamps distracted, Dean ducked out of their grip and shoved the closest one away. Sam grabbed the smaller one by the shoulders and swung him around into the barn door. The larger vamp seemed to like the idea and did the same to Dean. 

Dean stumbled back and saw the spike in just enough time to move his hand. An injury like that could put him out of the fight. 

And there it was again. That same sense of calm. That peace washing over his body. Time froze. He was acutely aware of the beat of his heart, the pump of blood and adrenaline through him. His mind fled back to everyone that he had never saved. The images he would never be without. His mind went to Cas. The angel who had given and given and  _ given.  _ The angel who had given everything up until the very end. Even when the man he was giving everything for meant nothing. 

_ Dean Winchester had never been worthy of being saved.  _

He pushed himself forward. The spike was behind him, a mammoth of a monster in front of him. He should be taking a defensive strategy, but he didn’t. He ran towards the vamp, aiming where he knew the vamp would push him away and directly back. 

He braced himself for the pain. But, besides a small pinch in between his shoulder blades, there wasn’t any. He let out a huff of air. It was inside him, pushing against rib and flesh. He felt the chill of the metal and the spires around it. But, still, he felt no pain. 

He struggled with the vamp for a moment, batting its arms away, before Sammy came forward and, with a single swing, took its head clean off. 

Sam looked around at the mess of bodies. “Alright,” He tucked his blade away. “Let’s go find those kids, get ‘em outta here.”

Dean looked down. He thought the spike had gone straight through. He thought it must’ve poked through his chest. Sam’s obliviousness to Dean’s predicament said otherwise. 

“Sam?” Dean reached up and touched his chest, feeling for where the point of the spike must be. “I don’t --”  _ There _ . He’d found it. He pushed on it slightly. It didn’t break the skin, but it was close. “Mm. I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

  
“What?” Sam moved forward. “What are you talking about?”

Dean had forgotten about his little brother. His mind erupted into panic. How could he forget that he had to take care of Sammy? But, Sam was an adult. He didn’t need Dean with him every step of the way, anymore. But how would Dean feel if it was  _ Sam  _ who was impaled on a rusty nail?  _ Shit.  _

“There’s something in my -- something in my back.” Dean let out a breath. What could be done now? This thing was all that was keeping him alive. He was a dead man. “It feels like it’s right through me.” He laughed because he didn’t know what else to do.

And there it was. There was that pain he’d been waiting for. It seemed to line the entire length of his body; inside and out. 

Sam stepped forward and reached behind Dean. Dean grunted as his brother probed whatever the hell that wound was going to look like. He imagined it was smooth. Rather clean cut.

Sam’s face lit up with panic as he drew his hand away only to see blood. 

Dean could feel the blood trickling down his back now. He was no stranger to pain -- to blood. But as more time went on, the more scared he became. 

How would he get Cas back now? Would he even be allowed in Heaven? What would happen to Miracle? Jack had told him not to do anything stupid. He should’ve listened. 

“Oh, god,” He muttered, leaning his head back against the pillar. He felt the pressure building up inside his chest. He was angry at himself. He was scared and frustrated and worried. He screamed through his teeth. 

The fear grew with every moment. 

Sam reached forward. “Alright. Um . . . Hold on, okay. I, uh, I got you.” He reached under Dean’s arms as if to pull him off. 

“No, no, no, no, no.  _ Don’t _ \-- don’t -- don’t move me. Don’t move me.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It feels like this thing’s holding me together, right now.” He coughed. He could taste the blood on his tongue. He swallowed it down. Sam didn’t need to see that. 

Dean felt the air leaving his body. The blood was running down his pants now. He felt woozy -- light-headed. He didn’t have long. 

“Just give me -- just give me a minute.”

Dean sent out one final, silent prayer.  _ I’m sorry, Cas.  _

\----------•----------

Cas had made good time. The sun had just begun to set when the plane landed and the weather was wonderful. He had gotten a rental and set off in the direction of Canton. On the way, Charlie called. 

“Hello?”

“ _ Hey, Cas, just thought you’d want to know. They just stopped outside a small barn about ten minutes from you. I’ll send you the directions.” _

“Thank you, Charlie.”

Cas hung up and pushed the gas down. It was going to take less than ten minutes if he had any say in the matter. 

He stopped the car about ten yards from the barn, leaving his lights on. There was the Impala. His heart was going a mile a minute and the two children racing towards him didn’t help. 

“Are you the police?” The youngest asked. 

“Uh,” Cas froze. They were dirty and scratched, from what he could tell. “Yeah. I’m with the FBI. Did two men go inside and help you?”

The older one spoke up, this time. “Yeah. They were fighting the bad guys. Someone screamed a minute ago.”

Cas’s breath sped up. “Wait in the car. You’re safe now.” And, without another word, he raced for the barn door. He heard faint talking inside. His gut twisted in a knot. What if he was too late? What if Sam and Dean were dead?  _ Don’t panic. Do not panic.  _ He scolded. 

He pushed open the door and instantly knew something was wrong. Sam had his head buried in Dean’s shoulder. The latter of which was standing stiffly against a metal pillar. 

Dean saw him first. “Cas?” His voice was raspy and low. 

Sam turned to face the door. His eyes lit up. “Cas! Cas, help him!” Tears fell freely down Sam’s face and Cas’s legs went weak. “He’s dying,” Sam sobbed.

Cas rushed forward. No. No, no, no, no,  _ no!  _ He was back. He was  _ alive.  _ He and Dean were supposed to have a chance now. He stood to Sam’s left, tears welling in his own eyes. He felt so helpless. He didn’t have his grace. He couldn’t do  _ anything.  _

“I don’t —” Tears fell now. “I’m human.”

All hope left Sam’s face as he turned back to Dean. 

“Can’t you call an ambulance?” Cas begged, reaching for Dean’s hand. 

Dean just watched in awe as Cas spoke and moved and  _ breathed.  _ “You’re alive,” He wheezed. 

And Cas wanted to slap him. “You idiot!” He sobbed. “You goddamn  _ idiot!”  _

Dean smiled and slotted his fingers in between Cas’s. “I know. I know.” He, too, was crying. Whether it was from pain, fear, or grief, none of them knew. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m calling an ambulance.” He stepped to the side a bit and did as he said he would. 

Dean didn’t try to stop him this time. 

Cas stood in front of Dean now, one hand holding Dean’s and the other cupping his face. “Is this my fault?” He breathed, wiping away Dean’s tears with his thumb. “Did I do this?”

Dean smiled and pressed his forehead to Cas’s. “It’s not your fault.” He could smell Cas. Perhaps it was because he was human, but he could place the smell now. He smelled of honey and perhaps the sea. Dean wished he could inhale such a scent for the rest of his life. Then again . . . he could. “I was never meant to be saved.”

Cas let out another sob and pulled Dean forward into a hug. 

Sam, who had been watching as he begged for the ambulance to hurry, called out, “Cas! No!” But his shout was too late. Dean gasped as Castiel pulled him off of the nail. 

Cas panicked as blood poured over himself and Dean. “No,” He whispered, instantly realizing what he’d done. He sobbed and managed to pull his jacket off while still supporting Dean’s weight. He wrapped it around Dean’s chest as tight as he could and tied it off. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he cried. Repeating himself over and over and over again. 

“Dean’s eyes were closing now. “It’s — it’s okay.”

Cas slowly crouched down onto his knees and lowered Dean with him. He held Dean now, clutched to his chest as a mother may hold her crying child. 

Dean was pale and sickly. His eyes were bloodshot and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. 

“Cas . . .” He wheezed. “I didn’t — I didn’t —” Dean drew a shaky breath. “I need you to know that I was just . . . shocked. I — I didn’t know what to say. I do now.”

Cas shook his head. “Shhh. I know, okay. I know.” 

Dean smiled. “I know you do. But I want to say it.” Cas stayed silent as Dean continued. “I love you, too, Cas. I have for a long time. I’m sorry I was too scared to say anything.” 

Cas swept a stray strand of hair from Dean’s face as Sam made his way back over. He set the phone on the ground, the call still going. 

“Hang in there,” Cas begged. “You’re gunna be fine.” 

And then it hit him. Jack, if the plan  _ had  _ succeeded, would have as much power as Chuck had had. “Jack!” He gasped. “Where’s Jack?!” 

Sam shook his head. “I’ve already tried that. He either can’t hear us or is choosing not to help.” 

Cas closed his eyes anyways. “Jack,” He said, his voice loud and clear. Whoever had answered Sam’s phone call was sure to be confused. “Jack, it’s Cas. I’m back. We need you.  _ Please.”  _

There was silence as they waited. They could hear the sirens in the distance. But they were on a flat plain, the ambulance could be a ways away still. 

There was still no sign of Jack. 

“Cas? Sammy?” Dean’s voice was scarcely a breath now. “Don’t leave me.” Sam moved so that he was sat across from Cas. He helped hold Dean up. 

Blood pooled on the ground beneath them. Cas knew the paramedics would find the headless bodies. He knew that Sam and he would be arrested and that Dean was going to die. 

And yet he held onto hope, because that was all he had. 

“We’re not going anywhere, Dean” Sam whispered. His voice was thick with tears. 

“Promise,” Cas added, wiping away the blood falling from Dean’s lips. It only left a smear before more blood replaced it. 

Dean smiled. it was a small and weak thing, but it was there. “See you on the other side.” 

And he was gone. 

Sam bent over, a broken noise escaping him. 

Cas sat there, numb. It was his fault. He killed the only man he’d ever loved. He buried his face in Dean’s chest. He smelled of blood. “I’m so sorry he sobbed.”

_ “Is he still breathing?”  _ The man on the phone said. 

Sam hung up. “We have to go, Cas. We’ve gotta get out of here.” 

Cas took a shaky breath and nodded. He wrapped an arm around Dean’s back and another under the crook of his knee. He had just begun to lift him when . . . 

“Cas?” 

Castiel’s head snapped up. “Jack.” His voice cracked. “Jack, you have to heal him!” 

The kid simply stared at Dean, shocked. “What happened?”

Sam stood up now. There was no threat to his actions, but an urgency. “ _ Now,  _ Jack. We don’t have time!”

The sirens were closer. They were going to find the bodies and the blood and the kids and they were going to jump to conclusions. 

Jack seemed to piece everything together. He moved past Sam and crouched down next to Dean. He pressed his palm to Dean’s chest and, instantly, Dean gasped in a breath. His eyes opened and moved between Cas, Sam, and Jack, not seeming to focus on any of them. 

“He’ll be delirious for a few minutes,” Jack explained. “He was already in Heaven.”

Sam nodded and helped Cas pull Dean to his feet. “Cas, get Dean home. I’ll take the kids to the hospital and I’ll meet you back at the bunker.”

“Alright.” He turned to Jack. “Do you want to come with me?”

Jack hesitated. “Yes. I’d like to talk to you about some things, anyways. Michael and Gabriel are currently watching over Heaven, so, it should be fine without me for a while.” 

Cas nodded. He was already moving towards the car. They had to get out of here. They’d take a round-about way, lights off. With luck, they’d be back on the highway in five minutes, the ambulances never having seen them. 

He got Dean into the front seat while Jack slid into the back. He buckled Dean in and made his way into the driver's seat. And they were off — Sammy, not far behind. 

And, as they drove around the ambulances — lights off and giving them a wide berth — Cas laughed. They’d done it. They saved Dean, they got Jack back, and they were free. They were finally  _ free.  _

He laughed again. 

“W’so funny?” Dean slured, rolling his head over to look at Cas. 

“Nothing is funny. I’m just . . .” Cas hesitated, another smile breaking across his face. “I’m just  _ happy _ .” 

He reached across to Dean and grabbed his hand. His heart faltered and his smile felt permanent. It had taken much too long, but now they were here. It would be a slow adjustment, Cas was sure, but this was a start. 

Dean, who seemed to be coming to, a bit more, squeezed Cas’s hand. 

“That was not the fun kind of getting nailed,” he muttered. 

Cas cocked his head and spared a glance from the road to look at Dean. “What?” 

“Nailed. Like . . .”

“Sex,” Cas chuckled as he got the joke. “Nailed is another word for sex and you were impaled on a nail.”

Dean nodded and laughed. “Right, yeah. But,  _ explaining  _ the joke ruins the ‘joke’ part.” 

“Oh. Sorry,” Cas apologized. He wasn’t really sorry, but it felt like the right thing to say. 

Dean seemed to fully register Cas’s hand around his own. “You’re holding my hand.” 

Cas felt a flush cover his face. “I — I am. Is that alright?” 

Dean was silent for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally whispered. “Yeah, it is.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Jack spoke up. “How are you feeling, Dean? Everything in order?”

Dean started, as if he hadn’t known Jack was in the car. His face flushed a bright red. “How long have you been here?” 

“I’ve been here the whole time.” 

Dean sent a wide eyed glance in Cas’s direction before clearing his throat and nodding. “Well, uh, yeah. Yeah, I feel great.”

Jack smiled. “Awesome!” He’d done everything right, then. 

Cas, looking into the rearview mirror, smiled. “I’m proud of you, Jack.”

Jack’s face lit up. “I couldn’t have done it without Sam and Dean.” 

Cas turned to Dean. “I’m proud of you, too. But don’t think we’re not going to talk about what just happened.”

Dean looked out the window. “I think I’m starting to learn that talking’s a good thing.” 

Cas nodded. “I would have to agree with you.” 

Dean looked to Cas and then to Jack, and then to Sam’s headlights from behind them. 

And, for the first time ever, Dean felt like he had been worthy of being saved. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, well, this is the last chapter of the main plot. However, the story itself will continue with more domestic/ fluff moments.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! I hope you’re all having a lovely week so far! Here’s a wee bit of fluff because I’m a sucker for fluff.

They were all sat in the Dean Cave. Cas, Jack, and Dean on the floor across from Sam and Eileen who were in the chairs. 

Cas was wearing one of Sam’s shirts and a pair of Dean’s pants. The sleeves of the shirt hung down, far past his fingers, and the pant legs had to be rolled up a few times to keep him from treading on them. His other clothes were in the wash, currently getting cleansed of the gore from the evening. 

Miracle was curled up in Cas’s lap, tail wagging contently while Cas scratched behind his ear. The dog had taken quite a liking to him, and, Dean had to admit, he was pleasantly pleased. 

They had just finished telling Cas the full story of everything that had happened since the Empty took him. Dean, for the most part, stayed silent. He couldn’t quite figure out what was going on inside his mind. It was a jumbled mess of emotions spinning round and round too fast to make any sense of. He had Cas back. But Cas had almost lost  _ him.  _ Cas was no longer an angel, but Jack still wanted his help rebuilding Heaven. 

Dean didn’t like the thought of Jack taking Cas to Heaven for any period of time. He wanted Cas right where he was now — at his side. He’d lost him enough. There had been too many goodbyes. He was done with that, now. Castiel wasn’t going anywhere if Dean had a say in it. 

Jack leaned into Cas comfortably. Dean figured similar thoughts were going through his head. Cas was his dad, and he wasn’t going to let anything more happen to him. 

Jack explained that leaving Sam and Dean without saving Cas had been hard, to say the least. But the Empty was no vague threat. It was a cosmic entity, as well. And, while Jack was stronger than it, he had less knowledge. Less experience. To take on the Empty head first would’ve been reckless and likely dangerous for Cas. 

Jack, however, knew that, in time, he would be saved. The futures were foggy and many in numbers, but they all resulted in Cas coming home. 

Dean didn’t sit any closer to Cas than he normally would, but there was something different in the air between them. Not an ‘electricity’. More of a warmth. It was comfortable and tense all at the same time. 

They were all talking and joking quite contently. That is, until Cas’s stomach growled. 

It was silent for a moment before Dean started laughing. It was a deep belly laugh. The kind that makes you ache and double over. It was a kind of laugh he hadn’t felt in a  _ long  _ time. 

Cas frowned down at his stomach. “I’m hungry,” he announced. Sam, who was also shaking with laughter, was explaining to a rather confused Eileen what had happened. 

Cas pouted and nudged a still cackling Dean in the ribs. “I don’t get why it’s so funny! Your stomachs make noises all the time.” 

Dean placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder, still laughing. “We’re not laughing  _ at  _ you, Cas. It’s just . . . I don’t know. I really don’t know why we’re laughing.” This, of course, made Dean laugh even more. His eyes were clenched tight and tears forced their way out, slipping down his cheeks. These were the kind of tears he was okay with. 

“Dean, you’re crying.” Cas sounded genuinely worried. He reached up as if to wipe the tears. Dean, however, backed away out of instinct. Cas frowned. “Are you okay?” 

Dean cleared his throat, managing to get his laughing under control. “Yeah, I’m fine, Cas. I’m — I’m  _ great. _ ” Dean was being honest. There were still things that would torment him —  _ haunt  _ him, but right now, in this moment, he had his family. He was happy. Dean finally pushed himself to his feet, offering Cas a hand and pulling him up as well. “How about we go get dinner?”

Sam hummed his agreement. “Get that one Chinese place,” he insisted. “The one with the really good noodles.” 

Dean nodded. “Will do. Text me what you all want.” 

“Oh, and, Cas?” Sam called. Cas turned. “I wanna hear how you got out when you and Dean get back.” 

Cas hesitated. “I — I’ll need to talk with Dean first.” Dean cast him a side glance. 

Cas didn’t want to make Dean uncomfortable. He didn’t want to push Dean away just as he’d gotten him back. And, the main reason that Hades and Persephone had rescued him was because of Dean. Because Dean had mourned as Achilles had. In a twisted way, it boosted Cas’s self esteem a bit to know his loss could make not one, but  _ two  _ people grieve so loud that the gods of the sea heard. 

Sam seemed to fight off the slightest grin. “Alright, yeah. See you in a bit.” 

Dean ushered Cas out of the Dean Cave and up to the garage. He grabbed his keys and slid into his seat. “Cas,” he laughed, as the man in question got in. “Your tie’s backwards.” 

“It is?” He looked down. “Oh. Sorry.” 

As Cas moved to fix his tie, Dean placed a hand on his to stop him. He didn’t draw back so quickly this time. “Leave it.” His face flushed before he even spoke. “It’s cute.” 

Cas kept his eyes on Dean as he pulled out of the garage. “Do you not want to tell the others?” He asked. “I mean, Sam and Jack already know.” 

Dean was quiet for a moment. “This is just a bit new to me.” 

Cas still hadn’t looked away from Dean. “We have all the time in the world. And after our time on Earth, there’s Heaven. I’m human, now. When we die, we’ll go to Heaven and . . .”

Dean was silent. “Cas, you’re my best friend. And — and I can’t even begin to pretend that I haven’t imagined you as more. Haven’t  _ wanted  _ there to be more. But, you’re my favorite company to keep. And, what if something happens and we split up? And you don’t wanna talk to me or have anything to do with me?” 

“We’ve done that before, Dean. A  _ few  _ times. And look at us now. We’re fine. We’ll always be fine. I — I don’t care if you want us to be in a platonic relationship. My feelings aren’t platonic, but, I can be content in a less-than romantic relationship.”

Dean looked at Cas. “I think I’m in the same boat.” 

“Boat?” 

Dean chuckled. “It means I agree with you. I — I feel the same way.”

Cas let out a breath he had, unintentionally, been holding. “So, you’re okay trying something more, then?” 

“As long as whatever happens, you’re always going to be here. If — if we don’t work as a — a  _ couple _ . Then you’ve . . . you have to promise that you’ll still be here as a friend, at least. You’re a part of our family, Cas. Alright?”

“I’m not worried, Dean. I have no doubt that this is going to work wonderfully.” 

Dean couldn’t help another glance to his right. He laughed. 

“What?”

“I used to think it was envy I felt when I looked at you. Used to think ‘man, he’s just got great hair and — and those eyes are eyes you see in movies’. I don’t think it was envy,” Dean decided, smiling at Cas. “I think I was just too deep in my head to realize how goddamn  _ hot  _ you are.” 

Cas flushed a deep red. “What?” 

“I guess angel beauty standards are different than human beauty standards. But, Cas, man, your vessel —  _ you _ — you’re hot, man. I’ve never seen your angel form, of course. But, this is you now. It’s how I always have and always will see you. And you’re just . . . gorgeous.” 

“Oh . . .” Cas glanced out the window, feeling his face turn pink. “Why are you saying this now?”

“Because I can. Cause I know there’s no way that John Winchester’s going to try and shoot you or me or — or  _ anyone. _ And I know that you’re not going to judge me too much. And — and Sam’s not here to make a joke and make it awkward. And I can  _ finally  _ say it.”

Now it was Cas’s turn to laugh. “I wish I had said something sooner if this was going to be your response.” 

Dean’s grin turned goofy. “Well, I wish you’d said something sooner, too!”

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand cautiously, something he’d wanted to do for the entire ride. “I like this you,” he muttered. He risked running a thumb across the back of Dean’s hand. He was still worried that he would do too much. That he’d say something or do something to push Dean away — to shut him down again. “You’re happier.” 

Dean’s face softened. The lights of passing street lamps illuminated his face now. “Cas . . .” He looked over at Cas for a moment. “I’ve got  _ everything.  _ We saved the world, the Queen of Hell is our ally, God with a capital ‘G’ is basically our son, Sam’s okay, our friends are safe, a good few of our previously  _ dead  _ friends are alive, and — and I’ve got you, man. And I don’t even just have you  _ back.  _ You’re willing to be mine. Like,  _ mine _ mine. I never thought I would have this much. Hell, I never thought I’d be  _ alive  _ to have this much.”

Cas felt this strange warm glow in his chest. He felt lighter than he ever had before. “I love you,” he breathed. The words were strange on his tongue. He knew what they meant, he knew what they felt like, he truly did. But . . . saying them, now, knowing that they were reciprocated felt so much different. They felt powerful. Heavy and sincere. 

There was no hesitation this time. “I love you, too, you dork.” 

They were, at this point, pulling into the Chinese Restaurant. They were just in time too, it closed soon. Dean parked and turned the car off. 

“This feels . . . good,” Dean muttered. “It’s nice not being all caught up in my head, anymore.” 

Cas grinned, turning his whole body to face the Winchester. “I’m glad, Dean, I really really am.” 

Dean’s eyes flickered down to Cas’s lips. He caught himself and let out a breathy laugh, dropping his chin to his chest. 

“Dean?” 

The man in question shook his head. “Come’n. We’d better go get our food. I hope Sam sent us their orders.” 

A glance at his phone showed that his brother had, indeed, sent a rather detailed text of all of their orders. 

A familiar teenager was pushing chairs up under tables as they walked in. Lorelei — as that  _ was _ her name — seemed to be the restaurant's most frequent employee, she was nearly always working when they came in. 

“Mr. Winchester!” She exclaimed. “Mr. Novak! It’s great to see you again! It’s been a while.”

Dean grinned. “It has! We’ve been really busy lately.”

She nodded knowingly. “I get that. Exams are whooping my ass this year. I’m trying to get an academic scholarship to Addam’s State in Colorado, so, gotta get good grades.” She gave a tired smile before leaning forward. 

“So!” She clapped her hands together. “This late, I’m assuming you want take-out?”

Dean nodded while Cas stood to the side, shuffling awkwardly. “Yeah. Sam’s got his girlfriend over and, well, we’re all pretty tired.” 

Lorelei nodded. “That works best for me, honestly. We close soon, so, the less I have to clean, the better.” 

“Glad we could be convenient,” Dean laughed. 

She offered a smile before taking their order. Sam ended up ordering some vegan thing which, frankly, sounded disgusting to Dean. But, to each their own. 

Cas and Dean stood off to the side while Lorelei put their orders together. 

“So,” Cas started. “I mentioned to Sam that I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Dean nodded. 

“Well, uh, first thing you should know is that,” Cas took a breath, trying to figure out how he wanted to word things. “Naomi wasn’t the first one to mess with my mind. My — my memories.”

Dean’s expression tightened. “What?”

“Anna, when she was leading our garrison, took me out of the field at one point because I, once again, grew too close to the humans. It was before she disobeyed and fell. Our rules, as tight as they were when I met you, were stricter then. They saw fit to bury all of my memories pertaining to the war.”

“War?” 

“Yes. The Trojan War. Angels were split between the city of Troy and the Greek armies. Each angel had different opinions about who was in the right and who was in the wrong. Heaven was much more involved in those days. 

“We, of course, had to take a vessel. I chose Patroclus as my vessel and he, willfully, agreed. Do you know the story of Patroclus and Achilles?”

Dean shook his head. “Sam talks about an ‘Achilles’ Heel’ sometimes, but . . .”

Cas smiled. “It’s a rather long story. But, to be short, Achilles was half man, half god. When he was a baby, his mother dipped him in the River Styx, meaning that he was immortal. However, she gripped him so tight that his heel was not touched by the water. As he grew older, he befriended a boy named Patroclus. There are many modern accounts that say they were cousins; these are wrong. They grew to fall in love and, eventually, they traveled to the war together, where I took Patroclus as my vessel. 

“Patroclus, for the most part, was in control. I would take over when the need arose, but, the rest of the time, I just watched. I, in a rather second hand-fashion, grew to love Achilles as well. And then Anna found out. In the midst of a battle, she ripped me from Patroclus, who died in that very battle. Achilles was . . . distraught. They say the gods at the bottom of the sea heard his weeping. 

“Now,” Cas continued. “There was another couple — Orpheus and Eurydice.”

“I’ve heard of them! I did research when I . . . while I was trying to get you back. It was my biggest lead.” 

Cas popped a grin. “Persephone, Hades’s wife, told me that she regretted the loss of Eurydice. That and, well,  _ you,  _ Dean, was enough to convince Hades to bring me back.”

“Why?”

“She said that she hadn’t heard anyone mourn as you did. Not since Achilles.”

Dean frowned. “I — I mean, yeah, I was . . . man, I was  _ broken.  _ But, surely other people have been more broken up before.”

Cas shrugged. “Mourning and — and grief, Dean, it’s not always verbal or physical. It’s something going on inside you. Maybe Persephone was exaggerating, maybe not, but, either way, it was ultimately your love, or loss of it, that brought me back.” 

Dean stared. He couldn’t figure out how to explain the torrent of emotions inside him. Finally he settled for: “I’m just glad you’re back.” 

Cas reached up and squeezed Dean’s shoulder. “Me too.” 

—————•—————

The ride home was comfortable. They talked about little things. Things that held no real importance, and yet, we’re nice to talk about. Movies they wanted to watch, places they wanted to see, songs they wanted to sing, things like that. 

When Cas didn’t reach for Dean’s hand on the drive, Dean took the initiative. And Cas was all too happy to oblige. 

Miracle barked, ecstatic, as Cas and Dean made their way inside. Dean paused to give him a good scratch behind his ears before moving on to the kitchen. 

Cas called out, “We’re home!” 

Sam, Jack, and Eileen all wandered into the kitchen while Cas and Dean distributed food. As they ate, Cas told the story of how he’d made it from the Empty. As he was explaining his talk with Hades and Persephone, he could practically feel Dean glowing red beside him. 

Sam glanced between Cas and Dean. “So . . . you guys talked then?” 

“Yeah, we talked,” Dean said through a mouthful of food. 

Sam's eyes seemed to speak before he actually did. “And . . .?”

Dean kept his head down. “Remember what I told you about Eileen? About how she gets our life?” 

“Yeah.”

Dean finally looked up to meet Sam’s eye. “Cas gets it.”

Sam nodded, as if Dean’s explanation cleared everything up. It, of course, didn’t. He was itching to ask more questions, and yet, he knew now wasn’t the time. They’d just gotten Cas back. Whatever happened from then on happened. 

They sat and chatted idly for a few more minutes before Dean stood up. “Alright, come on. It’s time for bed. We’ve all had a big day. I died, Cas came back to life, Jack finished putting together entire planets, and Eileen’s had to deal with our bullshit.”

Eileen laughed. “I enjoy every minute.”

Cas nodded and stood with Dean. “I am tired.”

Dean patted him on the back. “Yup, figures. Come on, I’ll get you some pajamas and we’ll go shopping tomorrow. I’m sorry, but you can’t keep wearing our clothes. And you can’t keep wearing that shirt and coat. Not every day.”

Cas frowned and crossed his arms. “Why?” 

“Because,” Dean laughed. “Without your Grace, it’ll get dirty.  _ You’ll  _ get dirty. You’re not going to want it every day. Trust me.”

Cas crossed his arms. “But I like it.”

Sam snickered. “Cas, we’re not throwing it out. You’ll still have it.” 

“Speaking of which,” Dean cut in. “How many coats do you have? Cause I have one in the Impala and I know you’ve got at least one more in your closet.” 

“Why were you in my closet?” 

“He’s been looking for Narnia since he was, like, 15, Cas.” Sam laughed at his joke. And, if looks could kill, Dean would have him bleeding out on the ground. 

“I don’t get it,” Cas deadpanned. 

Dean grabbed Cas’s shoulder. “ _ Okay,  _ conversation over. Come’n, Cas.”

Dean steered Cas towards his room and sat him on his bed. He went through his drawer and tossed Cas a pair of pajama pants and a tee-shirt. 

“There you go. You can wear those tonight.” 

Cas nodded and stood up, reaching to pull his shirt off. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Dean called, lunging forward and pulling Cas’s arms out and away from his shirt. 

“What?”

“Change in your room,” Dean laughed, letting go of Cas’s arms. 

“I thought that couples in a relationship saw each other naked.”

Dean could feel the heat rise to his face. “I — I mean, maybe later on in relationships. But, I just — uhh,” He pinched his nose and let out a soft laugh. “I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that yet, man. Just, one step at a time.” 

Cas nodded and gathered the clothes into his hands. “I understand.” He smiled widely. “Goodnight, Dean.” 

“Night, Cas.”

Cas turned to leave. 

“Oh! Cas?”

“Yes?”

“It’s really good to have you back.”

Cas smiled. “Better get used to it. ‘Cause I won’t be going anywhere.”

And Dean knew he was telling the truth. 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to let you all know that your comments literally make my day. So thank you.   
> That’s all.   
> :)

Cas had been back for a few weeks by now. He had kept Dean’s wish to take things slow. They would stay up late, drinking beer, talking, joking, laughing. But, until Dean made a move forward, Cas was good where he was. He wouldn’t push the Winchester — he didn’t need to. Every moment spent with him was a blessing and, while excited for what may come, he was content with where they were. 

Eileen had, at this point, moved in. She had quit her job and had put her house up on the market. They had more rooms in the bunker, but she chose to stay with Sam. Occasionally, she would get up early and go on runs with him. 

Dean, however, had a feeling that no one would be going out on the coming morning. 

The storm clouds had rolled in at about seven that night. The spring air was heavy and dry. Already, Dean had an inkling this wasn’t going to be the kind of storm they could sit in Baby to watch. 

He had been right. 

The lights flickered out for a moment at about nine. Luckily, the bunker generator kicked on before Cas and Dean missed too much of their movie. 

The sirens kicked on at ten. Cas’s jump startled Dean more than the sirens themselves. 

“You alright?” He laughed reaching over to set a hand on Cas’s shoulder. 

“What’s that noise?” His voice was soft, timid. After his time in the Empty, he figured he would never adjust to sudden loud noises. It reminded him too much of the Empty’s bellow of anger when it got mad — which was quite often. 

“It’s a tornado siren. Means a tornado is in the area.” He let his hand slide down Cas’s arm and to his hand. He carefully threaded their fingers together and squeezed. “We’re fine, though. The bunker’ll keep us perfectly safe.” 

Cas nodded. He felt so childish. With each peal of thunder, his heart would stutter. Everytime the siren reached its peak, his blood seemed to sear beneath his skin. 

He wished Jack were here to stop the storm. But he was in Heaven, working with the angels to change things. It would be foolish to call him down for a simple storm. One of Earth’s natural occurrences. 

“It’s loud,” Cas said. And it was. The siren seemed to be amplified by the walls of the bunker. “Where is it?” 

Dean could feel Cas’s rapid pulse beneath his fingers. He ran his thumb over the back of his hand, trying his best to sooth Cas. “Probably in the field across the street.”

“Does that mean it’s close?” 

“It doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s right on top of us. I don’t know how close it is.” A grin settled on his face. “Wanna go look?” 

Cas’s response was instant. “No!” He frowned as he noticed Dean’s smirk. “Perhaps we should just go to sleep. It’s getting late.”

“It’s only ten!” Dean insisted. 

Cas stood up anyways. Dean, however, who was still holding Cas’s hand, had other plans. 

“Where’re you going?” He whined, pulling on Cas’s hand. Perhaps he pulled too hard, as Cas came toppling down on top of him. 

“Dean!” Cas gasped, as he fell awkwardly into Dean’s chair. 

Dean only laughed, wrapping his arms around Cas. “I’m not tired.” 

Cas, however,  _ was  _ tired, but Dean sounded so happy — playful. It was like seeing a perfect reflection in a still pond, he didn’t want to disturb the water. Finally, he adjusted himself so that his chin wasn’t digging into Dean’s chest and his feet weren’t dragging on the floor. 

By the time he was comfortable, he was curled nearly into a ball, sitting half on the armrest, half on Dean. Dean was perfectly warm. The kind of warm that you could feel everywhere, even where he wasn’t touching. 

“You smell good,” he said after a minute, his voice muffled by the fabric of Dean’s shirt. Despite himself, he could feel his heart slowing and his eyes start to droop. 

“Thank you,” Dean muttered in response. His voice was soft, a feather of breath through Cas’s hair. “You do too.”

Cas hummed, too lost in peace to put together words. The storm and siren was a distant noise now. He was warm and content. He could grow comfortable with falling asleep next to Dean every night. 

—————•—————

Cas woke up to the second siren of the night. His heart jolted and his mind fumbled in confusion. 

He was in his room. He had a vague memory of Dean carrying him back, but it could just as well have been a dream. 

Another peal of thunder and another peak of the siren. He couldn’t determine if this was truly the second time the siren had gone off, or if it was still going from earlier. 

He glanced down at his phone. It was nearly two. How long did these storms last? Was it  _ possible  _ it was the same one? 

With the next whip-crack of thunder, Cas sat up. He wrapped his arms around his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. 

He could practically hear the taunting. ‘ _ What’re you doing up, angel?’ _ Or, just as common, ‘ _ GO. TO. SLEEP!’ _

The room was pitch black. It was all too easy to believe he was back in the Empty. 

He was spiraling. 

What if this was another one of the Empty’s tricks? What if he’d never really escaped and he was still there, asleep? That would mean that something was going to happen to Dean soon. He’d die, or he’d reject Cas, or  _ something  _ bad would happen. 

Another thunderclap shook the bunker, the siren an unwanted accompaniment. 

Cas whimpered. He knew there was no one there to hear him, no one there to keep him safe. He buried his face in his knees. He was  _ pathetic.  _ He was sitting here like a frightened child. And for what? 

He’d made his decision before the next crack. He threw the covers back, his pajama pants dragging on the floor. They never had gone shopping as Dean had said they would. So, he just wore Sam and Dean’s clothes, which were always too big. 

He made his way through the bunker, the only light was the soft orange glow of the emergency generator lights. But, it was enough to see. 

He found Dean, asleep, snoring gently in his room. This wasn’t unfamiliar to Cas. There had been many nights where he’d watched Dean as he slept. 

He wondered offhand how he could sleep through a storm like this. 

Cas shuffled forwards a foot or two before stopping. What would Dean think of him? He’d once been the most powerful angel in the world — he’d been  _ God.  _ Sure, it wasn’t a moment to be proud of, but he’d been powerful nonetheless. So, what? Cas lost his Grace and was suddenly too weak to even sit through a storm. 

The next peal of thunder, however, propelled him forward. He did his best not to run. He was already acting a fool, no need to make it worse. 

Cas’s footfalls, of all things, seemed to wake Dean up. His eyes flickered open and his hand shot to the knife on his bedside table. 

Cas stumbled back. “Dean!” He hissed. “Dean, it’s me.” 

Dean set the knife down and pushed himself up. “Hey,” he muttered. “You okay?” 

“I — I couldn’t sleep.” Cas flinched as another crack of thunder shook the house. 

Dean seemed to get it. “That’s okay.” He pushed himself to the other side of the bed and gestured to the now empty spot. “You can sleep in here if you’d like.”

Cas swallowed, but nodded. The thought that he was still in the Empty was nagging at the back of his mind, and yet, he couldn’t seem to swat it away.

He sat down rather timidly on the edge of Dean’s bed. He was thankful for the dark as he felt a flush of embarrassment color his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” he breathed, bringing himself to look Dean in the eye. 

“That’s alright. To be honest, once I heard the sirens start again, I figured you’d end up in here.”

“You heard them?”

Dean nodded, settling back into the pillow. “Yeah. Woke me up.” 

Cas nodded and did the same. The bed was warm from where Dean had been lying. He turned on his side to face the Winchester and his breath left his body as he found Dean staring back. 

“Were you actually asleep when I came in?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure how much I  _ actually  _ woke up. Just heard the sirens, figured you’d be in here before too long, and went back to sleep.”

Cas smiled. “I guess you were right.” 

Dean placed a gentle kiss on the top of Cas’s nose before tucking his head under Cas’s chin. He enjoyed the rise and fall of his chest with each gentle breath. 

Cas grinned and wrapped his arm around Dean as their legs tangled together. There was something intimate about it that Cas couldn’t place. There was nothing sexual by any means, but the tickle of Dean’s breath against his collar, the warmth of Dean’s body against his, the feel of Dean’s hand pressed against his chest . . . he never wanted to move. 

His fears were all but forgotten. The siren and thunder were simply distant noises. He could hear Dean and Dean alone. 

He vaguely hoped there would be another storm tomorrow. 

“I guess so.”

—————•—————

It was Dean’s movements that woke him up. 

“Dean?” He muttered, his voice groggy and thick with sleep. 

Dean, who was almost out the door, turned back around. “Hey.” his words were just as slurred as Cas’s. He must’ve just woken up as well. 

“Where’re you going?” 

“Sam came in and said breakfast was ready.” 

Well, that would explain the still-pink tint of Dean’s face. 

“Sam came in?” 

Dean nodded and walked back over to Cas, helping him out of the bed. “Yeah. He may ask questions, I don’t know. Come’n, though, I smell bacon.” 

Cas smiled, allowing Dean to lead him into the kitchen. 

Eileen was getting out plates, utensils, and cups while Sam was finishing up on the pancakes. 

“Ooh,” Dean said as they walked in. “Getting fancy, Sammy. We’re doing pancakes, I see.”

Sam looked up, his eyes trailing back to Cas who was in a pair of Dean’s plaid pajama pants and one of Dean’s old AC/DC shirts. “Loud storm last night,” he noted, ignoring Dean’s statement. 

Cas nodded his agreement. 

“Could’ve covered up some noises.” 

There was a beat of silence.

“ _ Sam!”  _ Dean hissed, hitting his brother upside the head. “First off, that’s exceedingly rude and we  _ have house rules.  _ Second of all, nothing happened. So, bug off.”

Cas looked between them in confusion. “I don’t understand.” He whispered. He still wasn’t completely awake, and the bickering brothers weren’t helping him wake up. 

Dean handed Cas a cup of coffee (which he was only too grateful to accept). “Sam was implying that we had sex last night.” 

Cas’s face went pink. “Oh,” he muttered. He took a sip of his coffee, sputtering as he realized it was much too hot. He swallowed it down anyways, the bitter liquid searing his tongue and throat. He hissed. 

“You alright?” Dean laughed. 

“S’hot.”

Sam moved over to the freezer and pulled out an ice cube. He, handing it to Cas, said, “Here, suck on this. It’ll help.” 

It, in fact, did help. But only for a moment, after which, it became too cold to keep in his mouth. He ended up spitting it into the sink. 

By the time they got their food and sat down, the throbbing in Cas’s mouth had become a distant thrum. Dean sat next to him, their legs pressed ever so gently together. Cas couldn’t keep the slight smile from creeping onto his face as warmth spread throughout his body. 

“Cas?” Sam started, after a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, what’re you going to do with your Grace? We need to put it somewhere safe.” 

Cas set his fork down, folding his hands on the table. “I was actually thinking we could plant it.” 

They all stared at him. 

Finally, Dean spoke up. “ _ Plant  _ it?” 

“Yes. It would enrich the soil. Anything that  _ could  _ grow, would. I was thinking we could use it as a grave marker.” He lowered his voice. “For Mary.” 

Dean looked down at his plate, but Sam smiled. “I actually really like that idea. We never got to have a funeral, so, I mean, that’s a good idea.” 

Cas turned to his right. “Dean? Are you okay with that?” 

After a moment, Dean looked up. He seemed to be lost in thought. “Yes. I want Jack there, though.”

Cas was going to retaliate, say that Jack didn’t need to be tormented for something he hadn’t meant to do. But, Dean continued. 

“He’s a part of the family. And, I mean, I’m sure it’ll be hard, but I think it’ll help with closure.” 

Cas closed his mouth. Responses flitted around his mind. He couldn’t settle on one. Until, finally, “And I thought I loved you before . . .”

Dean’s face went scarlet while Sam ducked his head to hide a smile. “Yeah,” Dean muttered, grinning himself. “I’m trying to be a bit less of an asshole.” 

Cas smiled back. “You’re doing a very good job.” 

“Thanks.” 

Sam, finally, let out a quiet laugh. “You guys are so awkward, oh my god. Go on a walk or  _ something _ , but this is painful to watch.” 

Cas raised his eyebrows. “A walk actually does sound nice. I’d like to see the sky.” 

Dean nodded. “Alright. Go get dressed.” Cas was standing to leave when Dean added, “But take one of Sam’s shirts. I’m almost out.”

“Alright.”

As he left, Cas heard Dean chastising Sam. For what, exactly, he wasn’t sure. 

While he did take one of his shirts, Sam’s pants were much too long for Cas to even  _ try  _ to wear. So, once again, he made his way to Dean’s room to find a pair of pants. 

The first pair he laid his hands on were a faded blue with long rips along the front. He knew he’d seen Claire in jeans of this fashion, but he had no clue Dean owned a pair. 

Claire, Kaia, Jody, Donna, Bobby, Charlie, and Stevie had all come over for dinner a few nights after he’d gotten back. It had been a while since he’d seen Claire, and the reunion was nice. She seemed almost more comfortable with him now that he was human. She and Jack had gotten along well, which had been expected, but uplifting, nonetheless. 

Her remarks on his fashion choice was a common topic that evening. He had been wearing one of Dean’s shirts and, apparently, it was  _ quite  _ obviously Dean’s, as nearly everyone mentioned it. In fact, by the end of the night, the topic of his shirt had grown so frequent and annoying that he changed into one of Sam’s shirts. 

Dean met him by the front door. The Winchester’s hair, which had grown in the past few weeks, fell around his face. It was different, but Cas enjoyed it. It framed his face in a way Dean had never let it do before. 

“Ready?”

Cas nodded and Dean pulled the door open. 

Branches, leaves, and trash littered the ground. Nothing seemed too damaged. No downed trees or missing panels on the walls. There was a strange stillness to the air. 

But, as Cas had hoped, the sky was still there. Blue and dotted with clouds. It was mid-morning now and the morning dew had long since disappeared from the grass. 

“So,” Dean said, as they started walking in the direction of Lebanon. “I told Sammy to meet us in the square for lunch. We’re going to walk to town then go shopping for you. Cause, however adorable you look in oversized clothes, we’ve got to get you some that fit.”

Cas smiled to himself. “Adorable? Really?” 

“ _ Yes _ really! You look like a lost puppy most of the time and baggy clothes don’t help you look any tougher.”

Cas lifted his hands up to form horns over his head. “How about now?” He did his best to make an angry face. 

By the way Dean was cackling, it hadn’t worked as he intended. Cas nudged him with his elbow and watched, satisfied, as Dean stumbled over his own feet. 

“Wow, Dean, you can’t even walk straight.” 

Dean halted for a moment. His mouth hung open in a lopsided grin. “Did Sam teach you that? Oh, I’m going to kill him.” 

Cas smiled and pressed on. It was only a mile or so to town, but, if they still wanted to shop, they should keep moving. “Yeah, he did. When you went to get groceries the other day.” 

Dean laughed and fell easily into stride next to Cas. “What’re you then?” 

Cas cocked an eyebrow. “I’m human, Dean.”

“No,” Dean laughed. “I mean, like, sexuality. Are you bi? Gay? Straight? Well, okay, scratch the last one.”

Cas was silent for a moment. “I’ve talked to Sam about this. He said that I, most likely, to put a label on it, would be pansexual. However, I am a genderless being, human or not. And I don’t — I don’t  _ have  _ sexual preferences really. I mean, I like you. And — and I like looking at you.”

Dean flushed. 

“What?” Cas laughed. “You’re a very handsome man, Dean Winchester. And that’s coming from the man who put each and every one of your molecules back in place.”

Dean’s face went an even deeper shade of red. “I always forget that. That you had to piece me back together.” 

Cas hummed softly. “It was a rather therapeutic process. I knew then that you were special to me.” They fell silent for a moment before Cas continued. “But, to answer your question, I don’t know. I know I love you, and that, for me, is enough to be getting on with.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me, then,” Dean said, taking Cas’s hand in his own. 

The action had become familiar — natural. He did it so frequently now that Cas would probably hold on even in his sleep. 

Dean pulled Cas to a stop. “Hold on.” 

Cas furrowed his eyebrows as he turned to face Dean. He could see the color rising once more to his cheeks. “I just — I wanted to . . .” Dean faltered off, chewing on his cheek. 

And yet, something in Cas got it. He lifted Dean’s chin with his free hand and kissed him. It was gentle, quick. Nothing to remark about. It wasn’t a kiss as they described in the one movie Dean liked,  _ The Princess Bride.  _ It wasn’t perfect. 

And yet, Cas couldn’t keep the smile from his face as Dean let out a huff of air, his eyes wide and surprised. 

“Was that okay?” Cas asked, Dean’s silence beginning to worry him. 

The silence carried on a moment longer while Dean’s eyes flickered from Cas’s eyes to his lips and back. He leaned forward, kissing Cas again. First on the lips, and then his nose, his forehead, and finally his temple. 

He let his mouth hover over Cas’s ear as he whispered, “Don’t ever change.” 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This will be a smut chapter. If you’re uncomfortable with that or simply not interested, that’s a-okay. It’s not overly plot important and you won’t miss anything if you skip it. :)

It was storming again.

Cas had grown use to them by now. They, by no means, were pleasant, but, he could cope. He'd learned to cope with many things. Having to use the restroom, hunger, nightmares.

And, of course, Dean. Well, indirectly. It was more of what Dean could do to him. Or, more accurately, what he _could_ do, but didn't.

It wasn't Cas's first time being human. So, the first time it'd happened, he knew what was going on. About two weeks after Cas had come back, Dean had just finished a shower and came into the kitchen. He had a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his hair was poking up at different angles. He'd come in to grab something or another. Cas, to be honest, hadn't been paying attention as to _what_ Dean was doing. 

At a glance, it all stood out. Even as an angel the sight would've been . . . provoking. However, as an angel, he would've been less overwhelmed. Instead of seeing the way Dean's hip bones peeked over the top of the towel, he would've seen the water molecules beading his hair. Instead of seeing the waves of muscle across his chest, he would've seen the ink particles that made up his anti-possession tattoo. Instead of noticing how his hips wagged just a bit more than usual, he would've noticed how the towel moved aside to reveal just a bit more leg than Dean had likely intended.

Nope. No, he noticed that anyways.

Cas had turned back to his book, blushing furiously as heat spread throughout his body. He could envision it flawlessly. He could imagine Dean up against a wall, Cas's lips on his neck, slowly trailing down his body, pulling the towel off to reveal all of Dean. And Dean would beg and plead for Cas to touch him. And Cas would. Ever so gently, of course.

And Cas had stopped. He froze realizing what was happening to him. His pants tightened under the table and he chanced a look down. His heart had stopped. That would be an awkward conversation with Sam who was sitting across from him. So, thinking fast, he'd feigned a yawn, mumbled something about a nap, and stumbled off to his room to deal with the mess he'd gotten himself into.

That had happened a few other times. Not exactly, of course. But Dean would say or do something that dissolved Cas's ability to process anything and he would escape to his room in a panic.

By the third month of their relationship, he wondered if it was an appropriate time to bring up his occasional dilemmas to Dean. He'd decided against it. _It's too soon_. He'd argued. _You'll push him away and you've got a good thing going right now._

The same thing had happened on the fourth month. And now they were in their fifth month. Cas and Dean had had a few moments that could've led to something, of course. Dean would pull Cas close and kiss him on the hood of the Impala while they were stargazing. Cas's leg would travel just a bit too far up Dean's leg as they cuddled while watching a movie. And yet those moments had never gone farther than that.

And here they were, watching Star Wars while thunder and lightning played their horrid music outside the bunker walls.

They were sat in one of the recliners. Dean siting in between Cas's legs, smiling in content while Cas played with his hair. There was nothing sexual in anything they were doing. And yet, Cas was having trouble keeping himself from imaging his hands creeping from Dean's hair and to his chest. And then to his stomach, then hips, and then creeping under his waistband.

"Cas?" Dean's head was tilted back, watching Cas with worried eyes. "You alright? You're breathing pretty hard. Is it the storm?"

Cas cleared his throat. He could feel that same sensation that always preceded the physical symptoms. The way his body heated up and his skin felt warm to touch. How his breathing sped up and his mind fogged over with rather un-angelic thoughts. But he wasn't an angel. He was human. And Dean was his boyfriend. This was something couples should talk about. Right?

"I'm fine," Cas insisted. He knew if he sat there any longer Dean would feel Cas's predicament press against his back. "I've just got to get some water."

Dean nodded and leaned forward, allowing Cas to slide over the arm of the chair and head towards the kitchen. He did, in fact, get a glass of water. And then another.

He needed to talk to Dean. They were supposed to be _honest_ with each other. And maybe he was just overthinking it. Dean had had sex before. So had Cas, for that matter. So why was he so worried?

The temptation to touch himself now, in the middle of the kitchen, was becoming rather alarming. He set the glass in the sink and made up his mind.

Maybe it would be awkward and Dean would tell him to deal with his problems like the adult human being he was. Or maybe Dean had been having the same dilemma as Cas for a few months as well.

One could only hope.

Sam and Eileen, as they liked to run in the mornings, tended to go to sleep earlier than Cas and Dean. So, they were already in bed. The storm was also a loud, constant noise outside. Meaning, whatever happened, Cas and Dean didn't have to worry about any kind of interruption.

Cas took a deep breath as he stepped back into the Dean Cave. This is normal. He reminded himself. If anything, at least Dean will understand. "Dean?" 

Dean, upon hearing his name, turned around and peered at Cas over the back of the chair. "Hey," he said, smiling softly. His seemed to catch sight of Cas's growing erection. " _Hey_." He lowered the foot rest of the recliner and stood up. "That why you got up?" He asked, a grin growing on his face.

Might as well face this head on. "Yes. I was, well . . . rather embarrassed. And I was worried it would make you uncomfortable."

Dean cocked his head at Cas. "Uncomfortable is a word you could use, I suppose."

Cas's heart dropped. "Of course," he stuttered, his legs feeling weak as shame colored his cheeks. " _I'm sorry_." He had been prepared for this to be embarrassing, but the in-person encounter was so much worse than the one he'd had in his head.

For the first time since he'd watch Dean bleeding out in front of him, Cas wanted to cry.

Dean's eyes widened. "No. Cas, no. Baby, that's not what I meant." Dean's face went pink. He hadn't intended to use a nickname. It had just, kind of . . . slipped out. "I meant it in a good way."

Cas chanced a look back up at Dean's face. The only lights were from the television and the hallway, but it was enough to see his face — dotted with freckles and pink with flush. "I don't understand," he finally muttered.

And Dean laughed. He lifted Cas's chin up ever so gently. "Are you uncomfortable?"

Cas thought that was a dumb question, but he nodded anyways. "Yes, Dean. I am. Not only do I have to deal with an erection, but this conversation is extremely awkward."

"The, uh, the erection part is what I was referring to when I said that uncomfortable was a word you could use."

Cas stared. "So . . . this is okay?"

Dean tilted Cas's head up a bit more, leaning in until his lips were hovering just above Cas's. "Yes. This is okay. I just didn't wanna push you. I'm sure things are probably confusing."

Relief flooded Cas. "Oh," he breathed. Allowing himself a smile. This may actually go the way he'd hoped after all. "That's good. That's really good."

Dean hummed, finally leaning down to kiss Cas. And Cas kissed back. His body hummed with excitement. He'd kissed Dean before. It wasn't something they did often, which was okay. Perhaps now Cas would kiss him more. Perhaps now _Dean_ would kiss him more. However, every time they kissed, an explosion of excitement shot through Cas.

Kissing Dean Winchester was never a dull experience.

Dean slowly pushed Cas back until he hit the wall. He was going slow — Cas knew that. His movement weren't hesitant, but they were planned. Every time Dean moved his hand from Cas's hair to his back or from his shoulder to his cheek there was a certainty. Dean knew what he was doing. He was savoring the moment and he wasn't pushing Cas too far too fast.

He bit gently on Cas's bottom lip, humming as Cas's hands found their way to his hair. Cas's mouth fell open and Dean took the opportunity to slip his tongue in. _That_ surprised Cas. His eyes flickered open, but he didn't break the kiss. After a moment, he relaxed to the sensation. Something about it was more intimate.

He slid his hands under Dean's shirt, glad to finally touch what he'd only ever seen. He was like a kid in a candy store. Craving everything he had only been allowed to look at.

Dean groaned and ground his hips forward against Cas who whimpered into Dean's mouth. He wanted more than just the fabric of his own pants around his cock. He'd venture to say he _needed_ it in this moment.

"Dean," he breathed, tilting his head to the side as the Winchester moved to kiss his jaw and then neck. " _Please_."

Dean smiled and pulled his head back, keeping his hips firmly on Cas's. He was moving in this torturously slow speed, possibly not even moving at all. Maybe Cas was imagining it. But he needed something. "What is it, baby?"

Something about the pet name sent a shiver down Cas's spine. Something about it went straight to his dick. Dean smiled as he saw the affect his every word had on his boyfriend.

"More," Cas breathed, tugging at his waistband. His pants had long since become uncomfortably tight. He wanted out of them. "Please, Dean."

Dean smiled kissing him again. He pulled Cas's sweater up over his head and discarded it to the side. He ran a hand down Cas's chest and stomach, stopping at his hips. He slipped a solitary finger into Cas's waistband and ran it around, feeling both the press of his skin and the jeans.

Cas, who was finding that every inch of his body was growing more sensitive by the minute, hissed. He needed Dean. It was driving him mad. " _Please_ ," he begged. Usually in these scenarios it was Dean begging. Frankly, Cas didn't care who was doing the pleading. But, in this moment, he was glad it was him

"Please what, baby?"

"Touch me," Cas gasped. " _Fuck me._ Please."

Dean groaned and leaned forward. "I kinda like you like this," he breathed while he fumbled with Cas's pants.

Cas was rutting forwards against nothing, desperate for some kind of friction. He let out a breathy moan as Dean hooked his fingers around the belt loops and pulled his pants down. His underwear was damp with precum and he swore Dean gave a moan of his own as he saw it.

It wasn't a second later that Cas's underwear was down and Dean was sinking to his knees. Cas's heart was beating in his dick. Pulsing, nearly painfully, in anticipation.

Dean, who had been so slow and gentle before, seemed to be growing more desperate as well. One hand rested easily on Cas's hip while the other gripped the base of his member.

It was the grin Dean tossed up to Cas that threw him over the edge. His quiet moan was drowned by a clap of thunder as Dean took the head of Cas's dick in his mouth.

Cas let his head fall back against the wall. A hand fell to Dean's hair while another clamped over his mouth. The noises he made were becoming embarrassingly high pitched.

Dean pulled his head back, his hand still working slowly up and down Cas's cock. "I want to hear you, Cas," he said. His voice was thick with something that Cas could confidently say drove him insane.

"Sam —" Cas panted, jerking his head towards the door. "He'll — _ah, fuck_ — he'll here us."

Dean ran his thumb over the head of Cas's cock and watched, delighted, as Cas shuddered out another moan. "Don't worry, baby. He's a heavy sleeper. And we've got the storm."

That was enough for Cas. He let his other hand fall into Dean's hair as Dean wrapped his lips around his member once more.

He whimpered as Dean took him deeper with each bob. Dean's hand rose with each rise and fall of his head, ensuring that no part of Cas's dick went untouched.

And Cas was in shambles. Even with Dean's assurance, he tried to keep his voice low. This wasn't something he wanted Sam to interrupt.

Cas whimpered as his cock struck the back of Dean's throat. Dean gagged ever so softly, taking a moment before going back down. Cas, without thinking, pushed Dean's head. Faster, lower, faster, lower. A sob of pure ecstasy bubbled from his mouth as Dean moaned. The vibration seemed to ricochet through his entire body.

He could feel himself drawing closer. He remembered this most of all from his night with April. The shockwave of pleasure that coursed through his body. Already, with Dean, he knew this one would feel better.

"Dean — _ahh, fuck._ — Dean, I'm gunna come," Cas moaned, his fist tightening in Dean's hair. With some last ounce of self control, Cas pulled Dean away. He didn't want to finish yet. Not quite yet.

"Cas?"

And something in Cas took over. The same part of him that had imagined fucking Dean against a wall came out. " _Stand up_." His voice was practically a growl, fueled by lust.

Dean stood up.

Cas, one hand still in Dean's hair, spun them around, pushing Dean against the wall and flushing their bodies together.

"You know," Cas breathed, letting his lips fall to Dean's neck as he palmed him through his jeans. "If I still had my Grace . . . mmh, the things I could do to you. Without even touching you, I could make you come again andagain and again and again and _again_. Until you were screaming and begging and you knew nothing but my name."

Cas relished in the moan that escaped Dean's lips.

He pulled Dean's shirt over his head. He nipped at his collar bone and soothed the spot with his tongue, listening to every moan, whimper, and groan that fell from his mouth.

A part of him wanted to leave Dean covered in marks. Undertones to the freckles scattered around his body. He wanted Sam to know what Cas had done to his brother in the morning. And, after all, Dean wasn't complaining about Cas's bites or the marks they left.

Cas trailed these bites down his chest, taking a moment to roll Dean's nipples between his teeth.

" _Cas_ ," Dean moaned, biting his lip as Cas made his way down Dean's body.

By the time Cas reached Dean's pants, Dean was begging for Cas to touch him. Just to do anything more. Cas realized that he had been doing the same only minutes before.

Something in him paused. The image of Dean, his legs wrapped around Cas's waist, getting fucked into the wall flooded his mind.

Cas pulled Dean's pants and underwear down before tossing them to the side. He licked up the length of Dean's dick, simply intending to make him squirm.

It did.

Dean bucked his hips forward as Cas rose.

"Cas," he moaned, his head tilting to the side as Cas hovered over his ear.

"I'm going to fuck you." The words sounded surprisingly normal coming from his mouth. As if he was declaring that he had eaten breakfast that morning.

The noise that left Dean's mouth nearly toppled Cas over the edge. "There's lube," Dean gasped. "And a condom. Under the recliner."

Cas cocked an eyebrow. That was awfully convenient. They'd talk about it later. He turned to walk away, letting his hand trail down Dean's chest. And, lo and behold, in the small space under the recliner was a small thing of lubricant and a packaged condom.

He knew what to do. He'd done . . . research before. He'd wanted to be prepared. And yet, now in the midst of it, he found himself growing nervous. What if he messed up? What if he hurt Dean? _What if Sam walked in_? That one was still rather nagging.

He brushed all of those thoughts aside as he grew close to Dean. Focus on what's happening right now, he told himself. And he did. He opened the condom and rolled it on. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but, in his research, he'd learned why it was necessary. If Dean and he did this more often, perhaps they would get checked regularly and it wouldn't be a requirement. But, for now, it was. And that was fine as long as he still got to watch Dean whimper and moan.

Next, he lathered his fingers in the lube and spun Dean around. "Tell me if I need to stop," he said. Dean simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Cas gently slipped a finger in and listened as Dean let out the softest of groans. Cas pumped and curled his fingers, ensuring that Dean was well stretched, before adding a second finger. Dean's hands balled into fists against the wall.

Cas kissed Dean's back, nipping at it and soothing it with his tongue, before adding a third finger. Dean moaned and fucked himself down into Cas's hand. "Please, Cas. _Fuck_ — please."

Cas smiled, muttering something about how good Dean was being, before pulling his fingers out. Dean whimpered at the loss.

Cas once again lathered his fingers in the lube, only this time he rubbed it off on his dick. Making a bit of a show of jerking himself off while Dean watched over his shoulder.

"Baby, please," he begged, his eyes falling shut as he struggled not to touch himself.

Cas ran a hand up Dean's back, listening to each and every noise that fell from his lips. "Have patience, Dean."

And Cas was lining up, the head of his cock pushing against Dean's entrance. Dean bit his lip.

Cas pushed in slowly, taking his time and making sure Dean could adjust.

It was the strangest feeling for both of them. Cas wanted to cry from pure bliss and Dean looked close to tears likely from the pain. "Are you alright?" Cas whispered, running his hand up and down Dean's arm, doing the best he could to sooth him.

Dean nodded quickly, eyes squeezed shut. "Keep moving," he breathed, his voice higher than he'd intended.

Cas continued pushing in until he was fully seated and he paused, giving Dean a moment to adjust. The ecstasy of Dean surrounding him like this, so completely warm and perfect, was breaking him. The urge to bring his hips back and snap them forwards was growing by the minute.

He restrained himself, however, and, when Dean told him to move, he did. Slowly, at first. Pulling out almost all the way and then pushing back in. The pain, after a few minutes of this, started to seep away. It was becoming easier and easier for Dean to focus on how fast his heart was beating. How his breathing was speeding up with Cas's pace.

And, before he knew it, Cas was fucking him into the wall. The stone against his dick was the only friction it was getting, and it wasn't a particularly good kind of friction. He leaned his head back and Cas kissed his neck, leaving the same bites he'd left peppered across the rest of his body.

He let out a louder moan than he'd intended as the sound of Cas's hips slapping against his grew louder. He worried for a moment about Sam, and then there was another thunderclap. And then Cas thrusted forward and the worry was gone.

Without warning, Cas pulled out and spun Dean around. He lifted one leg up and Dean got the gist. With an awkward little hop, Cas had Dean pinned up against the wall. Instinctively, Dean's legs wrapped around Cas's waist and a hand tangled in his hair.

And Cas was back inside. He didn't take time to go in slowly now. Luckily, the pain was short lived — scared off by pleasure as Cas struck Dean's prostate.

" _Oh_!" Dean gasped, his eyes falling shut as his head rolled back. And Cas struck it again. Dean abandoned Cas's hair and reached over his shoulder, clutching to his back. His nails, as short as they were, were likely to leave marks. Well . . . if Cas was leaving marks, he'd do the same.

Cas's hips jutted up, striking the same spot. Dean was in shambles. Every breath was some noise between a moan and a scream and every thrust was pure ecstasy. His hand fell between he and Cas's as he jerked himself off.

Cas was muttering something in between grunts and moans that Dean couldn't quite grasp. Nothing mattered except for them, right then. Cas left sloppy kisses wherever he could, no longer taking the time to leave marks. Eventually, Dean's mouth fell to Cas's and they, once again, kissed.

Dean's hips rolled while Cas fucked him. His hand worked, keeping pace with Cas, and his body reeled. He'd had sex before. One could argue he'd had _too much sex_ , before. But this was completely unparalleled. He'd never been so completely out of it, as he was now. He knew nothing but he and Cas.

Dean's tongue explored Cas's mouth, muffling his moans. He could feel it now, the tension building up inside him, behind his naval. He pulled back from the kiss. "Cas, _fuck_ , baby, I'm gunna come."

Cas didn't say anything as he sped up his pace, fucking Dean harder and faster. He pulled the Winchester back down into a kiss, muttering something that sounded like ' _good_ '.

And Dean was coming. His head fell back against the wall as he covered his and Cas's chest with ribbons of come.

Cas moaned as Dean's walls clenched around him, but he wasn't there yet. He fucked Dean through his orgasm, taking in every noise and face the Winchester made.

He carefully pulled out and set Dean down. He'd expected Dean to wobble or stumble, but he didn't.

After a moment, Dean managed, "You didn't finish."

Cas shook his head.

Dean leaned forward, kissing Cas. His hand wrapped around Cas's dick, jerking him off at the same pace Cas had been fucking him to only a moment before.

He pulled away, letting Cas kiss his jaw and then neck. "You did so good," he breathed, still coming down from his high. "You make me feel so good, you know?" Dean ran his thumb over Cas's tip, smiling as he moaned against Dean's neck.

Cas could feel that same sensation again — rising somewhere in his stomach. " _Dean_ ," he managed, jerking his hips up into Dean's hand.

"Shh. You're doing so well, baby," Dean promised, speeding up his hand.

Cas closed his eyes, his hand clutched in Dean's hair. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a moan.

"You can come," Dean said, pulling Cas into another kiss.

Cas came, moaning into Dean's mouth as he pulled at his hair. Tears pricked at his eyes as Dean eased him through his orgasm.

Dean pulled away, a smile wide on his lips. His hair was askew and his face was red with exertion. But, god, he was beautiful.

He was Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.


End file.
